Page 5
Chapter Five
Ellie
I peek through the spyhole, shocked to find Enrique on the other side of the front door. I open it.
“Hi.”
“Elodie, let me in.”
“What?”
“Let me in, Elodie. Now.”
Neither his tone nor his expression says I should ask questions. I step back, and he slips inside the door, pushing it shut and locking it behind him.
That should terrify the shit out of me, but it doesn’t. We stare at each other for a moment, and then he’s spinning me, so my back’s against the door as he devours me.
Holy motherfucker.
This is better than any of the things I pictured while getting myself off with my vibrator. Over and over and over again. Definitely better than any porn I’ve ever watched.
He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the sofa. His hands grasp my ass and guide me to ride his cock. Our fucking clothes are in the way, but neither of us wants to stop kissing long enough to do anything about it. My hands run through his hair and over his shoulders and his chest as one of his hands slides up my back and around my ribs to grab my breast.
He’s kneading and squeezing. It’s arousing as hell. It’s everything I’ve been missing for years.
When he pulls away, he yanks my blouse over my head. Then he twists to lower me onto my back and holds down my bra cups so he can feast on my tits. He sucks and nibbles, making me arch my back, longing for even more.
“Please.”
He understands, biting the nipple he has between his teeth now while twisting the other. I moan, and my fingers grasp his shoulders. He reaches up and takes my hands, lifting my arms over my head. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.
I grasp the armrest and hold on, widening my legs to allow him to fit between my thighs. He grinds his dick against me, and I want nothing more than for us to both strip naked, so I can get fucked the way I’ve wanted since long before I even met him. I haven’t been with anybody since Tim, and even that was monumentally disappointing for most of the marriage.
Maybe this seems so spectacular based on the shit I have to compare it with, but I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s amazing because it’s him.
He kisses along my neck, up to my jaw, and behind my ear.
“Ellie, what are you doing to me? I have no self-control around you. I want every single bit of you.”
“I want to give you every single bit, Enrique. I have no self-control either.”
But my lust haze evaporates as he pushes my pants down, trying to get them over my hips. It’s when I lift them that I come back to reality. I press against his chest and shake my head. Immediately, he pulls away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it too far. I’ll stop. Sorry.”
I feel horrible about how guilty he looks. I sit up and follow him as he moves away from me. I adjust my pants back into place, then go back to straddling his lap.
“Enrique, this is new to me. Nobody has seen me naked besides one man in nearly thirty years. I don’t look the way I did the last time a man other than my ex-husband looked at me or touched me. It’s a little daunting.”
I feel so embarrassed. I got myself into this. My common-sense disappeared the moment he walked in the door. There’s a big difference between daydreaming about this and then actually letting it happen.
“ Chiquita , can you not tell I want you just the way you are? You obviously turn me on.”
“Yeah, but there’s a big difference between what you might think is under these clothes and what actually is. I have a scar I rarely think about. However, it’s one I really don’t want anybody to see and—oh, fuck me—I haven’t waxed in years.
I spit that last bit out entirely humiliated now.
He eases me forward to lie against his chest, pressing my head to his shoulder. He kisses my forehead and runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help the shuddering sigh as I relax against him. He wraps both arms around me, and it’s the first time a man’s comforted me in years. It’s not half-hearted or perfunctory. I feel cared about. He kisses my forehead again, and my eyes drift closed. Would that I could just stay like this forever.
“ Chiquita , I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met. But I would have waited years—though that might’ve killed me—if you weren’t ready for a kiss.”
I laugh. “That was more than a kiss.”
His chest rumbles beneath my cheek when he laughs, too. “I want you, little one. I want to feel you and taste you and bring you pleasure. But that’s not all. I enjoy your company. I look forward to it. When you shared your day with me, I wanted to share your burdens. We’ll go at your pace, chiquita , whatever it is.”
“I don’t know what that’s going to be. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of sex. I’m just self-conscious right now. I’m fine with clothes on, but—well—you’re you.” I lean back and gesture up and down as I look at him. “And I’m just me.”
He tenses, and his hands slide to my ass. He holds on to me so tightly it hurts. I love it. He keeps squeezing until my hips rock forward, my ass having a mind of its own and wanting to escape his vise-like grip.
“I will not ask what you mean because I understand. It’ll only piss me off to hear you put yourself down again. You will learn I am not a materialistic man. I don’t need to acquire possessions to prove anything. But what is mine, I take care of because it’s precious to me. You, little girl, are mine.”
His hand goes to my throat, resting heavily on my collar bone. His fingers press against the back of my neck, urging me forward. He sits up and presses his lips to mine. Both hands move to cup my jaw, and I feel like I’m in a movie love scene. Everything about the way we kiss is perfect. I’ve never felt this desired. Not by my ex-husband when we were dating. Not by the men before him. I’m breathless and in a haze when he sits back.
“Ellie—”
“Why do you call me that? No one shortens my name to that.”
“I think Elodie is one of the most beautiful and feminine names I’ve ever heard. I think Elle is sophisticated. But Ellie is just mine. It’s soft and light, which is how I want you to feel. Not like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders like I’ve sensed. I want to make you happy and take care of you.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What do you mean?”
Does he want a kept woman? A mistress? Does he think I can’t take care of myself?
“I call you Ellie and chiquita , but I don’t think you’re a child. You’re independent, and I know that’s important to you. I’m not suggesting I put you in a situation where you’re reliant on me. I don’t want to just come over to fuck, then leave. I mean as a partner.”
Oh. Shit. Um.
“Enrique, I can’t give you that. I never want to be in another committed relationship. I never want to be accountable to someone else or have to hold anyone else accountable. I don’t want?—”
I snap my mouth shut as I realize how I truly feel. I’ve said what I just did to plenty of people, especially ones who’ve tried to reassure me I’ll find love again. I don’t want it.
Accountability only scratches the surface. It sounds like I want freedom to do whatever I want. There’s some of that, but that’s not all of it.
“What don’t you want?”
I shake my head. This is pawing at a wound that’s scabbed over but not healed. I’m too exposed, and that’s part of why I don’t want a relationship.
“Ellie?”
“It’s nothing.”
I squeak as I reach for his shoulders, unprepared for him to lift me off his lap and lie me face down on the sofa. He spanks me. Hard. Several times. After the surprise that comes with the first one, I press my hips up. I want the spanking. I want his dominance and my submission, which is ludicrous. It’s the perfect opposite of what I want when he isn’t spanking me.
“Enrique, that hurts. Ow!”
“I know it does. It’s supposed to. I told you never to lie to me. I told you to tell me something is none of my business. To tell me you don’t want to talk about it. But do not tell me, little girl, that something that’s obviously important to you is nothing. Everything that’s important to you is important to me.”
“All right. Stop. Please. I’m sorry.” My voice trembles, and I feel like utter shit.
He scoops me up and cradles me this time. I don’t like it. I can’t hug him like he’s hugging me. I shift to straddle him a third time.
“Shh, Ellie. It’s done.”
“I pissed you off. That’s disappointing.”
“I’m not pissed off, carino .”
I know that means sweetheart for a man or woman. I shudder as I burrow into his chest. I feel raw. I want to run from it, but I want to run to Enrique. That makes no sense.
“I’m not disappointed in you or this conversation. I want you to understand you aren’t alone. I want you to understand you’re important. The things you think. The things you do. The things that happen in your life. I’m not trying to control you or demand to know every little detail. You can keep your thoughts to yourself. Just don’t diminish them or yourself. You’re too special for that.”
“That’s hard to believe, and it’s going to take me time to accept that. I know I’m hiding, but I understand now why I never want a committed relationship again. I never want to rely on someone again and be that deeply disappointed again. It would crush me.”
“If you let no one near you, no one can hurt you.”
“Yes.”
He tips my chin up and gazes down at me. He kisses me again, and it’s so tender a tear slides down my cheek. The other ones tonight have been passionate and possessive. I loved them. This—this gives me hope I don’t want. Because the other side of hope is disappointment. I can’t take more of that.
But, God, how he tempts me.
His voice is soft as his hand runs up and down my back. His other one cups my ass.
“ Chiquita , we have a lot we need to talk about that could make all of this moot. But before I tell you why I came over here—no, it wasn’t to ravish you—I want you to know what I said earlier hasn’t changed. If you want anything between us—romantic or platonic—we go at your speed.”
“You make me want to trust you, Enrique. And that’s fucking terrifying.”
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back for a moment. When he looks at me, there’s regret in his eyes. I pull away, but he holds onto me.
“Let me say what I have to say. If you want me to let go of you—if you want me to leave—I will. But I need to feel you in my arms while I tell you things I’ve told no one else.”
What the hell is he going to confess?
His expression is so earnest, but it grows more vulnerable the longer I watch him. I’m unprepared for it after the man who just spanked me. He’s dreading what he has to say. I grip the front of his shirt but sit up. I press my pussy against his semi-aroused dick. It lengthens, and I nearly moan. He pulls me close, and I have this urge to sit on his cock. Not for sex. Not to edge either of us. It’s as though I need that physical connection to prepare me for whatever emotional shit’s about to come up.
“Before we go any further, you should know my last name, too. It’s Diaz.”
“Enrique Diaz?”
Oh, holy fucking shit on a shingle.
“Yes. Do you recognize the name?”
Do I lie?
“I’ve heard it before.”
He stares at me for a moment. I haven’t moved. Some of it is shock, but nothing makes me want to bolt.
“What have you heard?”
Do I lie?
“I know you’re one of the wealthiest men in the world. I know you have business connections everywhere.”
He’s watching me intently enough to make most people squirm. I’m not most people.
“Anything else, chiquita ?”
“There are rumors and speculation I’ve read in articles. What do you want me to know about you, Enrique?”
“Do you believe those rumors now that you know me?”
“I believe you’re capable of those things, but so are millions of other people. It doesn’t mean you’ve done what they’ve accused you of, but maybe you have.”
“Do you think I run a drug cartel?”
“Do you?” I notch up my chin.
Shit got real, real fast.
“Yes.”
Well, that sure was blunt.
“Will someone kill you if you don’t?”
“Yes.”
“Would someone have killed you if you hadn’t taken over?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
He waits for me to say more, but I think that speaks volumes. He watches me, and I know he’s trying to tell whether I mean it, whether it’s bravado, whether I have some twisted bad boy complex.
“You aren’t kicking me out.”
“Do you use your product?”
“Never.”
“Will you expect me to?”
“Never!” He’s shocked I asked, but how could I not?
“Good, because I’ve never even smoked a cigarette. Do you or your nephews deal on the streets?” From my tone, he knows I know the answer.
“I won’t lie and say none of us have. But that hasn’t been my role for more than thirty years. My nephews are too senior for that now. What about the other things you’ve read about me?”
“The violence?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing about a single interaction I’ve had with you makes me think you’d ever bring that around me intentionally. I don’t fear you losing control and hurting me. It doesn’t thrill me to know the lengths you’d go to protect illegal products. But I get that it’s not as simple as what you import and export. You can’t get out and stay alive, so you’re in this for life. What you do protects your family and people who depend on you. Maybe you’re a horrible person, and maybe so are the people who work for you. But there are innocent people who depend upon you, too. Maybe the ends justify the means. I read once that you inherited the position from your uncle. You were born into this, and so were your brother, sisters, and nephews. If this is all any of you’ve ever known—if what you do isn’t just about the money but about protecting your family—then I will never disapprove of what you do. There are no limits to what I would do to protect my sons. None. I won’t fault you for being the same.”
“You don’t think I’m a murderer? You don’t think I’m a criminal? You don’t think I’m?—”
“Have you raped a woman?”
“What? No! I can’t believe you’d?—”
“Do you abuse children?”
“No!”
“Do you abuse animals?”
“No!”
“Then you haven’t crossed the line of what I can’t accept. I’d love to be idealistic enough to believe ethics are universal. Life isn’t that simple. A lot of times, ethics are situational. Is it wrong to kill? Usually. If it’s between kill someone or let my child die, I will put a bullet through that person’s head before my next breath. If I’m responsible for a multi-billion-dollar empire that ensures people have roofs over their children’s heads, food in their children’s stomachs, and clothes on their children’s backs, then I’ll do what I have to provide for those who rely on me. Duty is duty. It’s rarely glamorous.”
“That’s very philosophical.”
“That’s very real for me.”
“It’s why you stayed.”
I don’t need to say anything because it isn’t a question. He gets it. If only he knew the extent of it. But it’s not the time for all my secrets to come out. Or maybe it is, but I’m not ready.
“This brings me to the reason I came over.”
He waits for me, but I only raise my eyebrows. I won’t freak out until there’s a reason to. I won’t waste the emotional energy if I don’t have to. Another coping mechanism. That’s what they used to call it. A trauma response is what they call it now. Who knows what the next term will be? Whatever the hell it is, it’s how I get by.
“Ellie, being with me—being anywhere near me—comes with a level of danger we need to discuss.”
“That’s not surprising, Enrique.”
“But you need to understand what I mean. This isn’t just a passing comment.”
“It’s not like I think you’re some movie gangster, but I’m also not naive to what goes on. I see the news.”
“ Chiquita , that’s only a fraction of reality. There’s so much that never gets reported. Many of the stories you read or hear are only an abridged version. I came over tonight because there’s been a car parked on your street the last few times I’ve been in the neighborhood.”
I look toward the living room windows, but I already closed the curtains. As soon as the sun dips, I always close them, but the moment the sun is up, I open them. I love natural daylight, so most of the time, anybody could look in my window. I return my focus to Enrique.
“The car looks out of place, not because of make and model, but simply because it’s parked on the road when everybody else in this neighborhood parks in their driveway or garage. I’ve never seen anybody get in or out of it, but it’s been there, and it’s close enough for someone to watch you if they’re in that house. I didn’t want to make something out of nothing, so I assigned two men to watch the car.”
“Two men to watch the car or two men to watch me, Enrique?” There’s an edge to my tone, and I know it.
“To watch the car, but that also means watching you.”
I narrow my eyes, and his left hand goes to my waist. He strokes up and down my ribs to reassure me. While the gesture normally would, knowing he’s had men report to him makes me suspicious and uncomfortable.
“Ellie, the car has a dash camera.”
“What?”
“My men spotted a dash camera pointed toward your house, not toward the one the car’s parked in front of. My men only started watching the car yesterday. They haven’t seen anything else unusual except this evening another car drove past your house four times. That’s when one of my guys called me. He said the time spent at the top of the road wasn’t long enough for anybody to do anything at the park. It sounds like they merely turned around and came back down your street. I don’t know if they’re looking for something. I don’t know if they’re trying to intimidate someone on your street. It could be completely unrelated to you, but on the mere chance it is, I don’t want you here alone.”
“Do you mean tonight, or do you mean permanently?”
“We’ll start with tonight until I can investigate a bit more.”
I observe him, and there’s something else.
“Enrique, what aren’t you telling me?”
“The plates are fake. I ran them, and nothing came up. They don’t belong to a different car. They don’t belong to some law enforcement agency. Nothing. They’ve never been registered.”
That sends a chill down my spine. What the fuck? Could this be connected to me? Could it be someone doesn’t like Enrique spending time with me? I don’t know what to make of that, since I live in a gated community.
“No one’s allowed to drive into this neighborhood without either a resident sticker or being logged as an approved visitor. How is a car with fake license plates coming in here?”
“I don’t know. It’s something I need to investigate.”
“How are you able to come in the neighborhood? I know you’re on foot, but they stop pedestrians, too.”
“Ellie, my company built this neighborhood. I’ve been coming here since I bought the land.”
“You built—What?”
That’s a lot for me to take in. This home was previously owned, so I know very little about the developers. This is a substantial-sized community. The homes all have varied floor plans that don’t look like ticky-tacky boxes all in a row. It doesn’t look like an obviously planned community. It’s one of the things I like most about it. I don’t feel like my home is cookie-cutter.
“I bought the land seven years ago. I own a development company and a construction company. I have a team of architects, builders, and various other people needed for a project this size. You live in an upper-middle-class neighborhood where plenty of people could buy custom homes and not just the interior fittings. The first-time owners all worked with the architects to design houses how they wanted them.”
“Was this project a cover for something else?”
“No. I have plenty of legitimate, above-board businesses, and this is one of them. I’m a venture capitalist, among other things. I legally invest in plenty of companies.”
“That you then sell at a profit or break into shell corps.”
“Sometimes, not always.” His brow furrows.
“Enrique, I told you I was a forensic accountant.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. But the above-board businesses mean I pay taxes on all of those things. It keeps my nose looking clean.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“I told you I don’t use any of my products. I never have.”
“All right. I already told you I know you’re one of the wealthiest men in the world. I didn’t want to consider how you gained it. There’s nothing flashy about you that gives away just how much you have.”
“Because I can only live in one home at a time. I can only drive one car at a time. Do I have multiple properties? Yes, but I use all of them. Do I have multiple cars? Yes, but none of them just sit in a garage idle. I don’t need to spend every penny I have. I’d rather reinvest the money and make sure I can provide for the people who come after me. The people who depend upon me.”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“Have you been married before?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be her?”
“No. She died.”
I didn’t expect that. I blink several times before I rest my hands on his heart.
“No, carino , it’s not what you think. I’m not a widower. The marriage was arranged several years ago, but it didn’t last. We weren’t happily wed, and when the alliance fell through, it was as good a reason as any to end it. She remarried someone back in Colombia and was unfaithful. He found out.”
I swallow, and he shakes his head.
“I told you, I don’t abuse children. I don’t abuse animals. I’ve never raped a woman. I don’t abuse women either. Call me old-fashioned, but women aren’t supposed to be pawns in men’s business. They’re to be protected and kept away from this life as best as we can.”
“But that doesn’t always happen, does it?”
“No. But I’ve never hurt a woman, and I never will. She wasn’t faithful to me either, but she survived our marriage without a hair out of place.”
I nod. Taking in all of this information is a lot to process. I think I’m doing a pretty fucking great job not losing my shit.
“If this car that’s parked across the street and the one that went by tonight are connected to you, what does that mean?”
“That depends on what you want, Ellie. Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No!”
I blurt that answer, and I don’t have to think twice.
“Enrique, I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want to know how we deal with this together.”
“ Chiquita , there’s no dealing with it together. I have to deal with it, and I need you to trust that I can.”
“I don’t doubt for a moment that you can. This isn’t a life I know here, so I’ll take your advice on how to handle everything. But I still want to know what’s going on, Enrique. I don’t want any surprises, and I need to know if a man approaches me, whether he’s somebody to trust or fear. You need to be honest with me about at least that much.”
“I will. I will always tell you as much as I can. I will never lie to you about how I feel and what I want with us. But there are plenty of other things I won’t tell you. Plenty of things I’ll lie about. It’s not just protecting me. It’s protecting you. It’s protecting my family. It’s protecting all the people who rely upon me.”
“And that makes perfect sense to me. But I need you to be forthcoming whenever you can be. I won’t live fearing every stranger I see because I don’t know who to trust.”
“I don’t want that for you. I want a safety detail parked outside. If this isn’t about you, then it won’t matter to whoever this is. If it’s about me, then they’ll know I’m aware.”
He doesn’t need to say anything more than that. If they’re aware, they know he’ll react to anything he perceives is off.
“Won’t that raise suspicion too? You said it’s unusual for someone to park a car on the street. Now there’ll be two.”
“Would you allow them in your driveway?”
I can just imagine what my boys will say if they come over and see a strange man parked in the driveway. Fucking hell.
“What if I said no to the detail?”
“Do you have to answer a question with a question?”
“Do you?” I lift my chin again, my gaze unwavering.
“You know you make it hard to concentrate when you make me want to fuck you even more than usual.”
I have another one of those beached trout moments—I sit here just blinking.
“Ellie, I love your independence and how you challenge me. But your safety is a topic that’s non-negotiable. If we’re together in any way—friend or dating—you will obey everything I tell you for your safety. If you don’t, I’ll bare your ass and spank you. Earlier will feel like taps. I’m asking you to accept the detail, but you’ll have one regardless of your answer. If this has nothing to do with us, then it’ll be temporary. If it’s about us, especially if our friendship becomes more, then the detail is in place permanently.”
“You mean until I die or until things end.”
His dark eyes bore into my soul. I don’t know what he’s thinking because he doesn’t want me to. I’ve only known what he wants me to. He’s a man with more secrets than the Vatican.
“I’ll accept just friendship from you because you said you don’t want a committed relationship. I’ll accept being a fuck buddy if that’s all you’ll offer. But I want to be with you romantically. I want to see if we can have a lasting relationship. I wouldn’t want that, and I wouldn’t agree to anything else, if I didn’t mean for the definite future.”
“Definite? How long is that?”
“Definite as in there’s no question we have a future together.”
I want to hold on to that. Sink my nails into it and cling to it for dear life. I want companionship, even love. But not more than I want to avoid disappointment. It’s cowardly, but I don’t give a shit. Dress me up as a lion and call this fucking house Oz. I don’t want to depend on Enrique for anything, certainly not my emotional fulfillment. I told him I’m not risk averse, but that’s in business. I’m one-hundred percent risk averse to getting my heart broken.
“I’m spooking you. You’re ready to bolt. Let’s just deal with whatever’s happening with the car.”
“I’m not scared, and I’d walk you to the door if I didn’t want to be around you. I’m working through all of this. I won’t give up the friendship we’re building. That’s not in question. I’m brave enough to have sex with you as long as you’re in front of me. I’m not brave enough yet for you to see the parts of me I dislike the most. I’m not ready for anything more than casual dating. I admit it. If I want to run, I want no strings attached that’ll tie me down.”
“Do you want to date in general?”
“I’ve thought about it, but I’m not on any apps and haven’t gone out with a goal to meet somebody.”
“Do you want to date more than one person?”
This is wading into shit I don’t want to discuss. My emotions are contradictory, and I’ll sound like a bitch.
“Ellie, you can tell me anything.”
The fuck I can.
I wait too long because I watch him retreat.
“You won’t open up because there are things I won’t tell you. I know it’s not fair I?—”
“What you can or can’t tell me isn’t a factor.”
“Then what is? Do you want to date other men?”
“Not particularly.”
“Do you want to be alone?”
“Yes.”
My deadpan response surprises him.
“I spent nearly thirty years being lonely in a marriage. I’d rather be alone than lonely with someone there.”
“And you assume that’s what would happen with us? That I wouldn’t give you what you need.”
“I don’t know you well enough to know. Even if you did, I don’t know that I ever want to give up my freedom again. I don’t want to have to consider a partner’s feelings before I decide. I don’t want to have to put someone else ahead of me for the sake of keeping the peace. I’ve spent nearly thirty years doing my best not to be selfish. I’ve compromised—or rather, told myself I’m compromising but never gotten equal sacrifice in return. I’ve given up doing things—given up even considering doing things—for someone else’s sake. I don’t know if I’ll always feel this way. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to stop feeling this way if I ever do. I need to breathe. I need to feel like I can fill my lungs rather than always being suffocated.”
I pray he understands what I’m muddling my way through because I sound like an utterly selfish bitch right now. I sound petty and immature to my own ears. Maybe I am.
“I don’t want to play the field, Enrique. I don’t want to date a slew of men. I’d like to fuck. I want to do that a lot. As in how strongly I wish to do that and how much I want to have. I’m not looking to rack up a body count. I want to make up for lost time, but not indiscriminately.”
I’m sitting on the lap of the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I don’t have my shirt on, and my bra is back in place, but my breasts are half hanging out. If I hadn’t lost my nerve, we’d be fucking right now. I tell him I want to fuck, yet when I had the chance, I stopped us. I make no fucking sense to anybody but me because I’ll sound shallow as fuck if I admit why I feel the way I do.
“And if I’m happy to fuck you as often as you want to be fucked?”
“Can you accept being a fuck buddy?”
“I already told you I can.”
“You’re practically grimacing.”
“Because you know I want more. But I can’t force you. Ellie, I will lose my fucking mind if I know you’re sharing your body with someone else. Can you agree to sexual monogamy?”
“Yes. I told you, it’s not like I want to sleep with a ton of guys. You spanked me earlier for what you considered me speaking poorly about my body, but it doesn’t change how I feel. You are the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. In front of an average guy, I might not be so self-conscious. In front of a guy I might only want to sleep with a couple times, I might not be so embarrassed. In front of you—” I shrug. “Look. I know what I don’t want, but I’m not really sure of everything I do want. I want to spend time with you like we have been. I’d like to do more than just walk my dog or go rowing. I want to have sex with you. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else, and I’m not eager to date anyone else. I just can’t promise I’ll ever want to be in a committed relationship. You said you wouldn’t bring me into this world if you didn’t want something more definite. I never want you to feel you wasted time with me. I know that feeling far too well.”
I’ve said what I’ve said more than once. Enrique’s let me get all of it off my chest. He’s let me muddle through it. He’s let me rehash it. He did that and listened. He hasn’t looked bored. He hasn’t accused me of attacking him when all I want is to share how I feel. I didn’t intend for any of this to be a test, but he passed.
What the fuck happens if I fail?