Page 67 of The Promises We Break

Sexual research. Well, you can say that. You can say it’s been a lot of that. The only nights in the past month that we haven’tresearchedwere the days he was gone for his away games. And even then, the dirty and flirty text messages leave us both in a major state of need the moment he comes home.

I’ve never enjoyed sex as much as I have with him, and it’s sort of an addiction at this point. I might need an intervention and to check myself in somewhere.

Of course, it’s for research, I tell myself. The logical side of my brain says it’s needing as much information on these products to make an informed decision.

My body, my traitorous body, needs something else.

I keep telling her she’s delusional, but like a damn addict, she can’t keep her hands off Hudson.

The first day I brought home that box was the day something shifted between us.

I have never been given the sort of freedom that he has given to me. No one has made me feel as comfortable as he has, giving me a confidence I’ve never felt before, to be who I feel like I am naturally. He adds something powerful to my life, and a part of me is terrified of what happens if it’s gone.

That reliance scares me, and I’ve felt like ending this thing between us more often than I’d like to admit. But somehow, he still keeps me grounded. Everyone does, actually.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I have my own friends that aren’t somehow controlled by my family. As much as Suzy and Dana are friends, their parents are best friends with my parents, so a friendship was just expected of us.

The entire Smashers team hangs out daily; if not at the field for games or practices, at the condo for family game nights. And as domestic as it all is, it doesn’t feel like how Weston felt to me—all-consuming and restrictive. It feels like how happiness should feel.

There are moments I get a bit lost in it all, so I just have to keep reminding myself we are just helping each other out. We’re over halfway through the season now, and next year, I won’t be living in the condo. I’ll have to find a place of my own.

“Fine, you got me. I’m experimenting with my fake husband,” I admit.

“Oh, you dirty whore. Tell me more,” he quips back instantly.

In the past month, we’ve used pretty much every sample product that the vendor gave me, and it’s probably shameful to admit that I liked, well, everything.

So, I’m probably a nymphomaniac now.

Of course, I love when I control Hudson’s orgasms, and the shyness that was there before is now replaced with confidence and courage. It’s easy because he makes it easy.

That’s by far my favorite.

We also experimented with some more BDSM style toys. I didn’t love that as much. I loved the control, yes. I didn’t like the pain aspect that came with it. Hudson was completely relieved by that realization. I did enjoy tying him up, though.

So, what have I realized in the last month?

I like control, but not pain—giving or receiving. I love teasing. I love his orgasms more than my own, but when he reigns over me, possessively, after I’ve edged him for as long as I think he can handle, that’s another favorite.

He’s wild and uncontrollable. A savage side takes over that I also crave.

So, in true libra fashion, I’m indecisive as hell. I love being in control of him, yet also love being controlled.

Strange, I know.

We’re both finding out things about ourselves and each other that we didn’t expect. It’s liberating.

“I’m not giving the details of my sex life, Cruz.”

“Your fake sex life.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at his reply. “Just give me the fake details.”

“Your wit is over the top this morning. Did you have a quad shot in your coffee?” I ask, evading his questioning.

“Nope, this is just me. Stop avoiding it.” He smiles.

Ugh, he’s annoyingly adorable. Both in his persistence and his looks. His dark hair is thick and always styled perfectly. The black-rimmed glasses that he always wears give him a Clark Kent look, especially with that perfectly shaved, sharp jawline. The Latin side of him is starting to show now that it’s summer and we get a tad bit of sun during these months. A rarity for us in the Pacific Northwest.

“Did you get a tan?” I ask.

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