Page 92 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“No! I don’t want you here,” I bite out, though the lump in my throat begs to differ.

Hispatience seems uncharacteristic—this is a man who commands entire rooms with a glance, who isn’t used to being told no. And yet, he doesn’t push.

He exhales softly, his gaze never leaving mine. “Fine.”

Before I can react, he bends down, sweeping me off my feet with an ease that leaves me breathless.

“Cole!” I gasp, struggling in his arms. “Put me down!”

“No,” he says simply.

My heart pounds as he carries me into the sitting room and sits on the plush couch with me in his lap. He pulls me close and nestles me against his chest. The warmth of his arms around me is both soothing and disarming, and for a moment, I don’t know what to do.

I freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Taking care of you,” he says simply, his voice softer now. “Like I should have last night.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I don’t need taking care of, but the lump in my throat is too big to speak around. I press my lips together, trying to keep the tears at bay.

We sit in silence for a long moment, the weight of his arm around me both comforting and overwhelming. I don’t know how to feel about any of this—about him, about last night, about myself.

“What’s wrong with me?” I whisper finally, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Why do I feel like this?”

He sighs, his chest rising and falling under my cheek steadily.

“I should’ve explained this before we did anything, Annie,” he says, his chest rumbling with his words. It’s oddly soothing, and I become aware of his hand moving up and down my back. “I’m sorry that I didn’t. Last night was your first time.”

He says it so casually that I feel the flush working over my skin. When will the embarrassment end?

“But it wasn’t just your first time having sex, it was your first time with someone like me. Someone… who likes what I like.”

Never apparently. The embarrassment is never going to end.

“What we did is not common, and it would be intense for someone with years of experience. See, what happens is that everything intensifies during sex. You get a rush of endorphins and adrenaline. You can become emotional. Understand?”

I don’t respond, not really sure where he’s going with this or why he’s giving me a weird sex biology lesson, but I nod and he continues.

“Usually, afterward, you come back down from that feeling of heightened emotions and move on. But during particularly intense sessions, all those things are amplified. It’s not just a rush of endorphins, it’s an overload. You’re hit with wave after wave of everything at once, pushing you up high,way higher. And after it’s over, your system doesn’t just level out—it crashes.”

“What does that mean for me?” I whisper.

“Well, when your body goes through such a high and then drops low, you can feel down, maybe a bit depressed. Ashamed even. At the things you might’ve done, the way those things felt, and the fact that you enjoyed them so thoroughly. Does that sound right?”

I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing as I think about last night. How I’d begged him to take control, to push me, to give me more. I fight the urge to sob and nod my head reluctantly.

“I thought so,” he says gently, his voice tinged with regret. “I had hopes that you wouldn’t go through it.”

“So I’m not always going to feel like this? It’s not always like this?” I glance down at my hands, twisting my fingers together nervously. “Because I don’t like feeling this way.”

He shakes his head. “Not always. It depends on the person, the situation, and the intensity of the experience. What we did last night was new for you, Annie—emotionally, physically. That kind of first experience... it’s a lot. But it won’t always feel like this.”

His words offer some comfort, but they also make me curious. I bite my lip, debating whether or not to ask the question that’s tugging at the edges of my mind.

But he can apparently read my mind because he says, “You can ask me questions. I want you to.”

Finally, I decide to just go for it. “You said... it depends on the situation. What did you mean?”

He hesitates for a moment, his hand stilling on my back. “It depends on the dynamic,” he says carefully. “What people are into, what they explore together.”

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