Page 112 of Revelation

“Thank you!” I call out to Kaitlyn’s back just before she slips out the door.

Josh turns to me. “How cool was that? I just had a sword fight with a real-life dominatrix.”

“How’d you hook up with her?” I ask, an alarming thought beginning to creep into my head. “Is she afriendof yours?”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Cool your jets, Madame Terrorist. Kaitlyn’s a friend of Reed’s. I’ve never used her services.” He laughs. “And to answer your next question, no, Reed’s not a client of hers, either. They’re just friends. Reed knows everyone in L.A.—well, anyone who’s interesting.” He beams a huge smile at me. “So, my sexy little sex-slave, are you ready to keep going with our porno? We’ve still got the third and final act to perform, you may recall: The Big Reveal.”

I smile broadly. “Ooh la la. The Revelation. Yes.”

“Any last words before we get back into character?”

I think for a minute. There are definitely words I’m dying to say to Josh, three little words to be exact, but I can’t do it. They’re magic words a girl simply can’t be the first to say in a relationship.

“Nope. I’m good,” I say. “Proceed.”

“Quiet on the porn set!” Josh yells over his shoulder to an imaginary crew. “And...action.” He crawls onto the bed and cups my cheek in his palm. “Are you hungry, Katherine?”

“Yes, Master Joshua. Starving.”

Josh reaches down next to the bed, retrieves a small cooler, and pulls out a sandwich in a Ziplock baggie.

“Aw,” I say. “From Justin to Kelly.You made me an orgasm-inducing peanut butter and jelly sandwich? So sweet.”

“Wouldn’t want my sex-slave going hungry.” He grins. “I’ve got an apple and some chips for you, too, if you want ’em.”

“You’re the sweetest sex-slave-master, ever. Thank you. I was ready to eat my hand when we got back from hiking. Now I’m ready to eat both arms.”

He breaks off a bite-sized piece of the sandwich and feeds it to me.

“Whoa,” I say, chewing the sandwich with gusto. “You told the truth—I just came.”

Josh laughs.

“Why is this sandwich so good? Did you lace it with something illegal?”

“Nope. Just organic strawberry jam.”

He feeds me another bite.

“This sandwich is so frickin’ good,” I say, “it’s giving meMunchausensyndrome.”

Josh chuckles. “No, babe. NotMunchausensyndrome. That’s when you poison someone slowly just so you can keep being their caretaker.”

“Oh.” I giggle.

He chuckles. “You’re so cute.”

“So what did I mean, then?”

“Stockholmsyndrome, I think.”

“Is that where someone held captive falls in love with their captor?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay, then, yeah. That’s what I have for sure.”

We both stare at each other for an awkward beat.

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