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He begins to move, thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm, and his body presses against mine as he kisses me again. He allows more of his weight to press down on me than usual, but I love the way it makes me feel so connected to him.

I lose track of time as I get lost in him. His touch, his scent, the rhythm of his breathing, the way his skin feels against my own. Everything else has lost meaning in this moment besides him.Us.

I don’t know if it’s minutes or hours later that the familiar heat floods through my veins, and my muscles tense as I get closer to the edge.

Mark, now familiar with every one of my subtle reactions, says, "Come for me. Let me see you fall apart."

His words spur me on, and my mind is empty aside from the influx of pleasure and emotion flooding through me. Seconds later, I come. The pleasure is overwhelming, the sensations so intense it's almost unbearable. But Mark is there, gripping my body and whispering words of praise as I come undone.

As soon as I’m coming down from the high, he picks up speed, slamming into me in short, quick thrusts before he groans and pulses inside me. He drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard, and plants another chaste kiss on my lips before rolling over and taking off the condom.

His heart pounds against my ear as he wraps me in his arms.

My mind is empty, the entire world gone except for the two of us. In the heavy sensuality of the moment, an incredible sense of calm washes over me as we catch our breath. My eyes fall closed, my body suddenly exhausted. I’mfloating in an almost meditative state, not quite falling asleep but close.

Mark’s warm body envelops mine, and when he gently kisses my forehead, the words leave my lips in a whisper before I can consider the weight of them.

"I love you."

Mark stiffens, and only then do I realize what I said. Shit. I had planned on telling him, but not like this. Not tonight.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that," I backtrack. Panic creeps in with every second of silence that passes. Did I just ruin everything?

I turn to Mark, and he gives me a smile that I think is supposed to be reassuring, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, nor does it hide the disappointment in them.

"Don’t worry about it," he says cooly, which breaks my heart just a little bit more. I didn’t expect him to return the words, but I hoped he’d at least be receptive to them, or that he would reciprocate some sort of feeling.

But no. He gave me the most emotionless, dismissive answer he possibly could have. Like it was a silly mistake rather than a heartfelt confession. I shouldn’t have apologized, but I panicked.

I turn over so Mark doesn’t see my expression, and so I don’t have to see his.

He doesn’t love me.The thought fills my mind, drowning out everything else. If he did, what reason would he have for not saying it back? It’s not like I haven’t shown him how much I care about him; tonight was just the first time I’ve actually vocalized it.

He’s still holding me, but his touch has changed, if only slightly. Our bodies aren’t melded together like they were a few moments ago, and Mark is unnaturally tense. My face ishot as I try desperately to hold back the tears brimming in my eyes. They fall anyway, and I cry silently facing away from him.

We don’t speak, don’t kiss, don’t do anything except lie there. Twenty minutes pass of me trying to hold in my tears, but it feels like hours, until I finally sit up and stand.

"I’m going to bed," I say, not making eye contact and trying to force my voice to sound normal. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," is all Mark says in return.

My heart splinters as I close his bedroom door behind me. Dr. Lawrence’s words echo in my head:he does have the right to end the arrangement if you’re not on the same page anymore.

In my moment of pure vulnerability and honesty, I’ve fucked everything up between us by breaking the one rule he set, and the thought of losing him makes the ache in my chest grow until it consumes every part of my body and mind.

He doesn’t love me, but I thought maybe he cared for me enough that he’d say something other than an apathetic dismissal.

Joke’s on me, I guess. I’ve fooled myself and messed up the first relationship I’ve had where I actually felt valued for who I am. I don’t even want to hold out hope that he’ll explain things tomorrow or confess that he does have feelings, because it’ll only hurt more when he doesn’t.

If I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s that hoping people will change is the best way to get your heart broken over and over again.

I’ll just have to do what I’ve always done: carry the pain, as heavy as it may be, but keep moving forward. Now, it’s the only thing Icando.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

MARK

She loves me.