Page 157 of Tell Me Something True

How pretty she was when she did.

How he couldn’t wait to make her come again.

Slightly sore, mostly spent and completely satisfied, she collapsed against him.

Knowing he’d catch her.

He did. His free arm going around her waist. Trying to catch her breath, feeling suddenly, incredibly, inexplicably shy after opening herself to him that way, she pressed her face against his chest. Held on, her fingertips grazing the warm, soft skin at the back of his neck. The silky ends of his hair. Turned her head so that her ear covered the heavy, quick beat of his heart.

He kissed the top of her head—which made two kisses from him, neither close to her mouth, and yes, she was absolutely keeping track—then slowly withdrew his fingers from her center. She raised her head as he lifted his hand to his mouth. Watched as he sucked his fingers clean, his eyes shutting on a groan.

Her pussy clenched.

Guess she wasn’t so spent after all.

Or completely satisfied.

She reached down to cup him, but he stiffened and snagged her wrist. Jaw tight, he shook his head, the movement jerky.

Rejection slapped at her. Had her going cold and stiff, unable to move as he tugged her shirt closed, covering her breast. Slid her panties up her thighs. Keeping his hands on her waist, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing still erratic. “Don’t.”

She stiffened, curled her fingers into her palms. “Don’t what?”

Don’t feel like a fool? Don’t be hurt? Confused? Angry?

“Don’t think the worst. Not about this.” His voice dropped. “Not about me.”

She inhaled sharply. Oh, God. That was exactly what she was doing. Thinking the worst. Looking for excuses to put some distance between them.

Playing the same push/pull game she’d accused him of.

“You didn’t owe me,” she mumbled. “For last night. If that’s what this was.”

Just the thought of it, of him touching her that way, commanding her body with such ease and bringing her such pleasure when it might have been nothing more than a way to settle a debt owed, had her stomach churning.

“It wasn’t,” he told her.

“Are you sure? Because it sure seems like this was your way of making things even between us. Taking back that power you gave me last night after all.”

Lifting his head, he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not here to make us even. I’m here because I wanted to apologize for being a jealous asshole last night.”

“Oh. Well, in that case…” She waved her hand in a go on gesture. Crossed her arms. “Do continue.”

His lips twitched—she was getting closer and closer to that real smile—but his gaze remained serious. “I’m sorry for being a jealous asshole last night. I never should have acted that way.”

That was it. His entire apology. No excuses just… I was wrong.

It was surprisingly effective.

The truth often was.

“Making you come,” he continued, “had nothing to do with me owing you and everything to do with the fact that I can’t be around you and not want to touch you.” His voice dropped to a low, husky thrum. “And because I’m still a jealous asshole and I wanted to prove no one else can make you feel as good as I do. In case you were thinking of giving some other guy what belongs to me.”

He was talking about her orgasm, the one he’d wrung out of her, the one that had been all for him. But it felt like maybe that wasn’t the only thing he was talking about. Like she belonged to him, too.

Look, she’d come a long way in her personal growth. Had long ago stopped believing she needed a man’s attention to be complete.

But there was something about being claimed by this man that had her realizing that was only partly true.

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