Page 22 of Deeply Examined

The orgasm stretches out longer than any I’ve had before. By the time it ends, I’m twitching and shivering like I touched a live wire. I barely notice when he pulls out and then removes the speculum.

Dr. West unties me. My legs and arms drop to the bed as if they weigh one hundred pounds. He draws back the blankets and tucks me under them, then lays down next to me. He’s on his side facing me, with his head at the same level as mine. At this distance, I can see a thin rim of navy blue outlining the gray of his irises. His breath is warm as it mixes with mine. We stare at each other as our breathing slowly quiets.

“You did good,” he whispers. Pride expands my chest.

Hesitantly, I stretch out my hand and brush it along his stubbled cheek. His eyes flutter shut, and he leans into my caress with a sigh.

In that moment, with the curtains pulled tight around the bed, it’s like we’re the only two people in the world. Like we’re butterflies, trapped in a cocoon.

I lean forward and kiss him.

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Adam

Decades.

That’s how long I’ve wanted her. Years of pent-up longing released in a single soul-shuddering orgasm. Muscles lose, every nerve satiated, I sink into the mattress, letting the rare sensation of contentment settle over me. A warm, unfamiliar weight.

After years of sex that blurred the lines of control and pleasure, I didn’t think anything could truly surprise me anymore. But she has.

Jessica.

What we just did together exceeded my expectations. She fit like a glove, and when I was inside her the world for one fucking second made sense.

Usually after I have sex, I leave or my partner leaves. The women I fuck understand what this is—transactional, mutual gratification, nothing more. I make sure they’re satisfied, and then we go our separate ways.

But this time, I don’t go. I don’t even reach for my clothes.

Instead, I climb into bed with Jessica and pull the blanket over both of us. It’s not calculated. Definitely not part of my plan. It’s just that I don’t want this to end. I want to linger. To live with this sense of peace for a little while longer.

Peace that’s shattered when she kisses me.

Soft lips touch mine, and my eyes fly open in shock. I rocket up in bed and scramble backward, my heart racing violently. My feet hit the floor.

She sits up too, her hand covering her gaping mouth. Stunned, wide-green eyes look at me. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Why’d you do that?” I lash out, backing away from her. My voice is sharp, the bite of it only barely masking the raw edge of panic clawing up my throat.

Jessica clutches the blankets to her still-naked chest. “I’m sorry. I just—you were there and I—I wanted to kiss you.”

“Well, don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t kiss.” I snatch my shirt from the floor and yank it over my head, then pull on my pants and grab my satchel. I’m moving on autopilot. My only thought isget out, get out, get out.

“What do you mean you don’t kiss?” She blinks, trying to process, then shakes her head like she doesn’t believe me. “Who are you? Julia Roberts fromPretty Womanor something? Everyone kisses.”

“Not me,” I spit out and spin around. Panic has hijacked my brain. I need to run, to escape.

“Wait!” she calls out as I dash down the narrow hallway. The tiny apartment closes in on me, claustrophobic.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob, momentarily distracted by the small table in the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed it when I walked in. It’s set for two. Plates, silverware, cloth napkins folded neatly. Long tapered candles glow, flickering in the center next to a small vase of sunflowers. A single twinge of guilt before I jerk the door open and stumble out into the chilly night air, gulping it down.

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