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Chapter Seven

I woke up in Nora's bed for the first time ever to the bright light belonging to the morning. Her homey apartment, with its light earthy tones, cozy furniture laden with accent pillows or blankets, and the gentle fabric softener fragrance in her sheets didn't match what I was used to. My place, with a darker, sleeker design weighed down with colder metals rather than warm plushes, acted as a stark contrast to Nora's.

She stirred in my arms, as if she sensed my consciousness, and her palm flattened against my chest. For a moment, it seemed like she checked to see if I was real. When she peeked her drowsy eyes open, a shy smile curved her pink lips.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey." I smiled and smooched her forehead. "Sleep good?"

"So good." She rubbed her fingers in slow circles along my collarbone. "Best birthday ever."

"Aww." I chuckled and leaned down to nip her knuckles. "I'm glad."

"Do we have to work?" She started suddenly and glanced to the clock on the dresser.

"Nope. It's Sunday. No summons by Wilkinson yet either."

"Oh, good." She lay back down and breathed a soft sigh.

I rolled on my back and she moved with me, her head falling to my shoulder and her hand resting between my breasts. I rubbed her back, leaning my head against hers while we tumbled into quiet.

"How's your rump?" I smirked when I remembered her welted ass.

"Tender." She smiled, but her cheeks burned red in an instant. "I don't hate it."

"I didn't think you would." I chuckled and brushed her hair from her face when it caught on her lashes. I wanted to say things to her—to say everything and anything—but I didn't. I couldn't.

"Does it still count as one time if we're still in bed together and I'm naked?" She smiled and bit her bottom lip so hard that I thumbed her teeth to make her release it.

"Easy on that sensitive lip. You're starting to leave teeth marks. And it probably still counts, if you bend the rules to your favor." I narrowed my eyes at her. "Which you like doing, brat."

She snickered and kissed my chin. "I do. You let me."

"I do." I drew in a slow breath, again settling my energy and ego to offset hers. "Are you morning-horny?"

"Yeah." She stroked her foot up and down my leg. "I almost always wake up with fire in my stomach. It's when I masturbate most."

"I didn't know that…" My gaze flickered down her body then back up to meet hers again. "What else don't I know about you?"

"Not much, Car." She nuzzled me with her nose. "You know the most of anyone."

"Yeah." I bumped her forehead with my chin. "Same with you."

"Can I ask you a serious question? Not one tangled up in playing?" Her tentative gaze met mine, but this time it wasn't out of shyness, but worry.

"Of course."

"Why do you really not let me touch you? Is it just part of your scene or… part of you?" Her delicate question left her on fringes of the raspy voice that found her normally after her shouty sex sessions.

"Part of me," I answered honestly. "But definitely part of scenes. I really do enjoy causing pleasure. Knowing I can make someone else feel so good, then taking care of you after…"

"I know you do. But sometimes, I want to know I've caused you pleasure, too. I'm probably not the only one who has ever felt that way."

"You're not." I smooched her forehead. "But you care more."

"I do…" She paused for a moment. "Can you tell me why I can't touch you?"

"I could." I tucked her hair behind her ear and her hand slid down flat along my stomach. Again, I just let her because…I did. "But it will ruin the fire in your belly."