Page 90 of Audiophile

Liar.

You have twenty-six spots from your left collar down to your right thigh, not counting your heart-shaped birthmark or your scar near your hip. What’s your scar from, anyway?

I’m torn between wonder and disbelief. I turn to the mirror and count them; something I haven’t done before. He has me memorized. My cheeks heat—all of me heats—until my blood simmers with anticipation.

Creepy on the marks. I had my appendix out.

I was aiming for smitten. C’mon Pet, I relive connect the dots with you constantly. How could I not have them memorized? Are you in the bath yet?

You have an unhealthy obsession with me taking a bath.

Get in and press play, baby.

“I can’t believe you consider yourself a switch,”I mutter. I settle into the hot water, phone and wine in hand. I set my volume to the lowest setting and hit play.

“There’s my girl. Having you in my bathtub will always be a highlight of my life. I’ve never wanted someone that intensely before.”

“Me either,” I confess, though I don’t have the wealth of experience that he does. I hadn’t craved Nate that way, or any of my previous boyfriends.

“I’m speechless just thinking about it. You are overwhelmingly, exquisitely beautiful, Petra.”There’s a sigh, a brush, like Reed’s fingers snag on fabric. I can only imagine, but my imagination is a wide place, and the idea of Reed touching himself while imagining me is heady.“Even before I opened that curtain, I was riding the edge. You have no idea. Every splash, every giggle, every moan—they all had me aching for you.”

It’s as personal and all encompassing as when he’d blindfolded me, with only his voice spurring me on. I sigh as I cup my heavy breasts, wishing my hands were rougher. Wishing they were Reed’s. “It’s harder now that I know what you feel like. It’s not enough anymore.”

“Do you ache for me? Brush your hand over your mouth. Can you still feel me there?”Each swipe and nip and tug of our mouths playing together—finding each other—lingers on my lips.“Because I can. Your kisses are imprinted on me. I was dying to kiss you before we hiked to the falls, Petra. It was agonizing.”

“I wish you had.” It’s hard to admit, but at least he can’t hear me. “I wish I’d taken advantage of every moment—kissed you at every opportunity.”

“It still is. Even now, you’re asleep in the other room and I want to wake you up to kiss you again.”He recorded this while I was there. In his bed. How did I not hear him?“I’m an idiot right now for leaving, and for not dragging you with me, in case you’re wondering.”

“It wouldn’t have worked out,” I admit, both to myself and to him. But sadness sweeps through me, knocking arousal out of its way. My heart throbs, the aching worse than ever.

“I have some stuff to work out, therapy to go to. I have to get myself together and be a better man.”

“You’re already amazing.” I want to reassure him, but hot tears bubble up, and I can’t blink them back. This is the exact kind of goodbye I didn’t want.

“I know the distance will be good for us, but I can’t leave with this open-ended. I bought a plane ticket to come back in a month. Pick me up in Portland?”

“What?” I sit up so fast that I splash water everywhere. I go to rewind, but the track is already stopped. That’s it. The end.

I dial his number without thought or hesitation. He picks up right away, but I don’t let him say a word. “Are you serious?”

“I knew you’d call right away!” Reed says, triumphant. “I’m completely serious. Deadly serious. I’ve already pushed my flight back twice because you refused to call me.”

“You did?”

“I’m getting on a plane to see you in seventeen days.”

I’m speechless. My heart trips over itself in surprise before warming up with attraction and tenderness, my blood boils with anger, and my stupid tears are salty where they run over my lips. “Why? Why would youdothat? What if I’m going on vacation?”

“Petra.” Reed laughs like thespavaldohe is. “Are you going on vacation?”

“Icould’vebeen.”

“Then I would’ve changed my dates again. You know, this also isn’t the call I planned. Twice in a row—you always keep me guessing.” There’s a long moment of quiet, and then Reed’s voice sounds less sure. “Do you want to see me again?”

He bought a house somewhere. We’ll have to do long distance, have to stick it out through heartache and missing each other. Can I handle that? I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and whatever I say will push me off one side or the other. I’m not prepared for the fall. “What am I to you, Reed?”

“What do you want to be?”

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