It went on for some endless period of time. Then they were simply rocking together, her head on his strong shoulder, his arms wrapped so tightly around her body she could barely breathe. But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

They were slick with sweat, enveloped in each other and the damp New Orleans air. Finally Jamie sighed and pulled back, lifting her and laying her down on the bed, pausing to squeeze her hand tightly for a moment.

“Be right back,” he said before getting up and moving toward the bathroom.

She felt too naked without him beside her. She shook her head at her silliness and waited for him to return, her body sated and limp, a small, happy smile on her lips. Several minutes passed, and she looked at her bedside clock to see if it really had been that long.

Oh, for God’s sake—don’t be so damn girly.

But more time passed, and soon it had been a full fifteen minutes before he came back and climbed onto the bed next to her.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” was all he said.

She would have been tempted to ask for more but he pulled her into his arms and snuggled his face into her hair.

“Mmm, you feel good, sugar,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes and reveled in just being in his arms. Except for the tiny voice in the back of her head that was still asking why he’d disappeared so suddenly after sex—after the intensity that had happened between them—and why he’d been gone so long. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to say the words out loud. She wasn’t going to ask if what she’d seen in his eyes had thrown him as much as it had her. Made him wonder if they’d made a mistake.

Fuck.

“You okay, baby?”

“What? Yes. I’m great,” she lied. To herself as much as to him. Because this was maybe more than she could deal with. Especially right now. But she had to stop. There would be plenty of time to be freaked out tomorrow.

Stop it. Be in the moment.

And the moment was so good, if she only let it be. It was lovely to be taken care of the way Jamie had done tonight. When had any other man done that for her? The bath, his gentle handling of her—when he wasn’t being so beautifully rough with her. But what if . . . ? God, she could barely stand to think of it, but what if this was nothing more than an extension of the promise he’d made to take care of her? And after seeing her involved in kink, this was maybe the only way he could do that?

And what if you’re borrowing problems where there aren’t any and he was just throwing away the condom and taking his time washing up, rather than planning his escape?

She buried her head in his chest and breathed him in, trying to calm herself, and after several long breaths it worked. A little. She had to concentrate very hard on the slowing cadence of his breath to relax. At some point, she slept.

*   *   *

THE SUN WAS just coming up when Jamie stirred, waking her.

“Hey.” His voice was rusty, and even in that one word she heard the touch of Scottish accent that usually made her shivery all over, her knees melting. But this morning it only made her shiver, and not in a good way.

Please don’t let this fall apart.

But the doubts from the night before came flooding back to her—she couldn’t help it. She wanted to run again despite the connection she’d felt with him during sex. During the bath. Hell, during the entire evening until he’d gotten up from the bed. Funny how a mere fifteen minutes could change everything.

Too damn early to go there. She needed coffee. And maybe a lobotomy.

“Want some coffee?” she asked. “I can put a pot on.”

“Yeah, I do, but it’s almost seven and I need to get to the shop. I’ll pick some up on the way.”

“Oh. Yeah. I need to get ready for work, too.”

He yawned and kissed her forehead. “All right. Time to get up.”

That was it? Not even five minutes of morning cuddling? No “sugar”? No “Last night was wonderful”?

Oh, you really do need to cut this girly shit. Just let him go to work, damn it.

“You can shower here, if you want,” she offered, but she didn’t know how sincere she was. She could use some time to catch her breath, to catch a beat without being distracted by a man who was driving her crazy and turning her into some needy, whiny little girl.

He stretched, sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her for several moments before getting up. She didn’t want to look at him, but he was too damn hot to look away. Strong, muscled back, shoulders practically rippling in the misty morning light.

“Nah,” he said finally. “Thanks. I’ll run by my place. Need a fresh shirt, anyway.”

He walked into the bathroom, came back with his clothes on, making her glad she’d gotten up and slipped into a short cotton chemise.

He grinned at her, one cheek dimpling. “I think I left the berries on my desk.”

“Well, you’ll have something for breakfast, then.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He moved toward her then, laid a hand on her shoulder and peered into her face. “Any subdrop?”

“Oh. No. I’m fine.”

Doing his duty, anyway. That’s something.

No, it’s really not.

Maybe you are in subdrop.

He was, of course, oblivious to her silent conversation with herself. “Good. You can call me if you drop, okay? If you can’t reach me for any reason, call Allie or Rosie.”

If she couldn’t reach him?

“Of course. I know what to do. You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

“Right. I’d better run.”

Still no “sugar” or “sweetheart” or “baby.” She hated that her heart sank a little.

“I have to get in the shower in a minute, anyway. I’ll just . . .” Her hands fluttered at her sides. “I’m going to put some coffee on and get ready for my day.”

“Don’t work too hard.”

“You, either.”

He dragged her in and kissed her, but even the soft press of his lips on hers was missing something.

After he left she stood in the kitchen, mentally shaking her head and her hands literally shaking as she put the coffee on. What the fuck had happened? Were they both so classically screwed up that the intensity they’d felt the night before had shaken them this much?

Yes. That was it exactly. There was no way to deny her emotional crash or his distance. Her instinct might be to run, but Jamie had beaten her to it. Just like she’d been afraid he would.

Madame wandered in and demanded treats. Summer absently opened a drawer and grabbed a few out of the bag she kept there, scattering them on the floor. Madame crunched busily.

“This is exactly why I shouldn’t get involved with anyone,” she told the cat. “Especially Jamie. This was never going to end well. I knew it. You knew it. What was I thinking? That he was hot? Okay, yes, he is hot. Jesus. Like no other man on the planet. You’ve seen him.”

Madame looked unimpressed.

“But I think this proves I was right. The ‘taking care of me’ stuff—it’s what I always knew to expect of him. That doesn’t make me special, except that I’m Brandon’s little sister so he has to be especially careful with my feelings. He wanted me, but he didn’t expect it to come with intimate talks about our childhoods—even if it was his idea—or Holy Grail–level sex. I think we both overdosed on closeness.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and she dashed them away with an impatient hand, then grabbed one of her big coffee mugs from the cupboard. “See? This wasn’t a good idea, Madame. A few days of mind-blowing kinky sex and a lifetime of regret. This is not good for me.” She squatted down and stroked the cat’s snowy fur. “Except it sure felt good for a while,” she whispered quietly so she wouldn’t have to hear the words herself.

She pulled in a deep breath as she got to her feet. “Okay. Enough of that. I have to get ready for work and . . . I think I need to take a step back and reevaluate things. Good idea? Yes?” Madame ignored her. “Yes,” she said decisively. She wanted to think she was decisive, anyway.