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“Yeah.” I reached up to kiss him again, and he allowed me to. His hands stayed on my face; they did not wander like mine were. My hands never reached lower than the hem of his shirt, and they never snuck underneath to feel that warm skin I craved the touch of. But I got my feel of him, regardless.

“Jacqueline,” I felt Leo’s lips pull back into a smile against mine, “Are you avoiding talking by kissing me?” I responded by kissing him again. And again.

“Maybe,” I murmured back against his lips.

Leo wrapped me in a tight, firm hug as he controlled the kiss to his liking. Forcing my lips open and dragging his tongue along mine in a way that promised dirty, dirty things I knew he would provide. Then suddenly, he pulled back and planted one last kiss on my forehead.

“I love kissing you,” Leo breathed against my hair, “But I also want to know what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours.”

“Are you sure?” I dropped my head and rested against his chest, clutching his shirt at his sides. Thankfully, he wrapped both arms around me until I pulled away first. I craved that close contact with him. Every morning I started my day feeling like I was missing something. Like I forgot my keys or my phone, something that should always be on my person.

It was just Leo.

Leo was who I was missing, who I was craving.

And that thought terrified me.

So I forced myself to pull away and start digging into the takeout he brought over. Doing something with my hands helped me justify not looking at him as I spoke.

“Okay, so,” my shoulders inched higher and higher, my anxiety desperately trying to take over my body, “…Okay, so…”

“You’re killing me, love,” Leo chuckled as he helped me gather our things and move toward the kitchen island. He dragged a stool out for me with his foot after taking his own seat. The moment was so casual, so intimate.

I basked in it as I sat.

When he reached his foot out again to scoot my stool closer to him, I couldn’t hide my grin.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, “I don’t know how to have conversations like this.”

“Feel free to lead into it however you’d like,” Leo took a bite of food before adding, “…Personally, I’d love if we could discuss my magic dick at some point.”

“Oh god,” I dropped my plastic fork and covered my face with my hands, “I’m so sorry. That’s what my therapist called it—”

“—I am averybig fan of your therapist,” Leo chuckled. I laughed too, lowering my hands to give him an amused look.

“Basically, I need to tell you how embarrassed I am that I didn’t, um…finish last time.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” Leo asked, lowering his eyes to his dish. He twisted his noodles around his fork, completely at ease. His casual body language helped me relax a bit as well.

“I just…it hasn’t been an issue between us before.” I shrugged, frowning as I stared at the way his long fingers held his fork. I watched him lift a bite to his mouth. It wasn’t a sexy thing for him to do, but I was a horn-dog since becoming intimate with him. Everything he did reminded me of what he and I could do together. The pleasure he was capable of pulling from me with little to no effort.

“Is there anything I could have done differently during that moment?” Leo asked, and god, the man sounded so genuine. It wasn’t a condescending question meant to lead me to some conclusion where I am at fault because the man did everything he could. If there was truly something else he could have done, he wanted to know.

Leo isn’t Vincent, the words rang in my head, much like they had before.

“I don’t think so, I actually think you handled it perfectly,” I sighed, “I wish I didn’t cry about it, though.”

“I think it’s okay that you did. It’s frustrating,” Leo spoke, “I have had times where I couldn’t quite finish myself.”

I lifted my gaze to his, “You have?”

“Yeah,” Leo lifted a shoulder, “I had just turned thirty, I hadn’t ever been unable to orgasm before, and I panicked. I thought my cock was broken.”

“Oh no.” I widened my eyes, realizing at that moment that while Leo was opening up to me about his inability to orgasm, I didn’t hold a single ounce of judgment for him. I wasn’t looking down on him. I didn’t think of him as less of a man or less of a sexual partner. I just listened to him and wanted to hear the rest of his story.

Perhaps that’s how he felt about me not finishing, as well.

“Thankfully, it wasn’t,” Leo smirked before taking a sip of water and returning the glass to the countertop, “I went to the doctor, who told me that my testosterone levels had dropped a bit. It is a common thing to happen to men in their thirties, apparently. Besides eating healthier and exercising more regularly, I was also on testosterone for a short period.”