Page 140 of Deliverance

The question surprises me because if my shameless mews weren’t an indication… “Why are you asking me that?” I turn my head to face him and meet his luminous eyes.

“It’s important to me.” He runs his knuckles across my cheek. “It’s important that you enjoy this. Being with me.”

There’s more, and I know he’s struggling with voicing those thoughts right now, so I voice them for him. I do it for me too. I say it out loud for both of us. “Sex with him…wasn’t always forced. We had good moments, but…I don’t really want to talk about him or that part of my life anymore. But yes, you did make me feel good. Really good. I almost forgot how wonderful intimacy can be. So thank you for that.”

A pause. “You don’t have to thank me.” He chuckles. “I’ll be happy to do it again and again.”

I’m tired, but the thought of leaving this bed or even fixing my dress makes my arms and legs ache. Instead, I find Zander’s hand and lace our fingers together. “You must be beat?”

“Very.” He smiles, his eyes starting to close.

“Me too.”

“Let’s get some rest.”

We doze off shortly after he goes to the bathroom to snatch some napkins and clean up the mess we made in my bed.

22 Zander

I wakeup to the soft sound of Drew’s breathing. I’m not sure what time it is, but the bright light spilling into the bedroom tells me it’s probably lunch time if not early afternoon.

My shirt is still on, my jeans are undone, and my cock is hard.

Great. Nothing unsettles a man’s mind like morning wood.

No doubt this mild complication can be explained by two things. One, memories of last night. Or two, the current view of Drew’s body splayed out on the blankets.

It’s magnificent. Everything from the elegant slope of her shoulder to the soft contours of her gorgeously long legs.

When my eyes sweep over the bruises on her neck, my blood instantly cools. I swallow and shove my cock back into my jeans, then sit up and run a hand through my hair.

Drew stirs and her eyes flutter open.

“Good morning,” I say.

She responds with a lazy grin. “What time is it?”

“I have no idea.”

At first, she’s quiet, but her face quickly twists with concern. “Shit.” She pushes up and steadies herself on her elbows. “I’m supposed to meet with a publicist today.”

I know that look. Panic. It’s happened to me countless times in the past when I came to a hotel room, totally unaware of what led me to the condition I was in. I loathed that disorientation.

“Is my phone anywhere around?” Drew asks, pulling the dress down over her bare thighs and slipping from the bed.

“Let me check downstairs.”

“Maybe it’s in my purse. The small black one!” she shouts on her way to the bathroom while I head over to the living room.

The next twenty minutes are so hectic, we barely get to talk about what happened last night. All of it. Her asswipe of an ex. The police. The ER. The mind-blowing sex that shook me to my fucking core.

The full extent of each and every event doesn’t truly hit me until we’re in the back of an Uber on the way to the gallery.

“You really didn’t have to go with me,” Drew says in a hushed voice as we push through the afternoon traffic on Sunset Boulevard.

“I wanted to.” I scoot over to close the space between us and kiss the spot next to her temple, then take her hand in mine, needing the contact just as desperately as air.

A muffled ping comes from her purse and she fishes her phone out, reads the message, then says, “Miranda will see me today at five.”

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