Page 92 of Bedroom Therapy

She leaned closer and kissed the dark stubble along his jawline. “I was hoping you’d ask. But if we want to be sure, we can live together for a while longer—before we take the plunge.”

“As long as I know you’re with me. It’s a load off my mind to know we can be a normal couple. Thanks to you. I’m glad you thought of coming here tonight,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Both of us came, actually.”

“Yeah.”

He took another sip of champagne, then set down the glass and turned his head, nibbling his lips against her cheek, her ear. “Loving you makes all the difference,” he murmured. “I think that’s why your bondage game worked.”

“Oh Zach. Maybe that’s true.”

His expression changed, and she knew he was thinking of something serious.

“What?”

“Uh. . . before we get too carried away, do you remember that talk we had at the restaurant? Where I said I’d like to go back to the police force. How would you feel about that?” he asked.

He was sitting very still, waiting for her answer.

“I’d feel fine about it. I told you.”

“That was hypothetical. This is for real.”

“Zach, you and I are for real. It’s a real relationship. It’s going to be a real marriage, where we each give and take—and each be happy.”

He kissed her hair, her cheek. “The luckiest day of my life was the day I rang your doorbell.”

“And embarrassed the heck out of me. You know what I was doing—right?”

He laughed. “Well, I didn’t know for sure, until now.”

“Writing the column turned me on. I guess that’s an occupational hazard.”

“I don’t think you’re going to need that vibrator anymore.”

“I already tossed it in the trash, before I came up here.”

He raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. “You were certain things were going to work out?”

“I wanted them to. More than anything. That’s why I had to come here tonight and play out that scenario.” She swallowed. “You know it was hard for me to do all that?”

“I could tell.”

“Um hum.”

“You’ll never make a dominatrix. You were too adorable.”

“I’ll show you adorable.” She raised her fist, but he grabbed her arm and brought it back under the covers. “Don’t tell me you weren’t . . . apprehensive,” she demanded.

“Okay. I was worried.”

“Good. You were supposed to be.”

“The point is, I liked it. And it worked.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” Then, because she was determined to be honest, she added, “You introduced me to facets of my sexuality that I would never have discovered on my own. If you hadn’t showed me there were all kinds of inventive ways to make love, I never could have pulled off that act a few minutes ago.”

“Right. I was inventive because I was desperate to make love with you—any way I could.”

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