The sensation I feel coursing through my veins is like ice water roaring through a blazing fire, instantly dousing it. I feel the cool relief wash over me as the smoke dissipates. Prynne is the first person who has actually taken my word when it comes to what happened. Even my friends at Princeton were, at best, lukewarm in their support of me in the beginning. That was before the spin machine took action, Meghan and her parents twisting everything so that I came out looking like some sexual predator. After that, the wagons were firmly circled. And I was the one left on the outside.

I believe you.

Granted, she didn’t have the benefit of sitting in that office with the dean, watching Meghan shed her crocodile tears, feeling the death stares of her parents, sensing the complete and utter stench of disappointment radiating from my own parents.

Meghan’s parents made damn sure that video never saw the light of day. I was stupid enough to admit to making it when I was first approached by the dean. I was then stupid enough to delete it when I first started getting threats from Meghan’s parents. Bye bye, exculpatory evidence. Hello, expulsion.

Before I can verbally respond to Prynne our food arrives, interrupting the moment. Prynne smiles reassuringly over the waiter’s arm as it darts back and forth over the table placing our food before us. It’s just as much confirmation as her words were.

I believe you.

I don’t care what her own fucking secrets are. I don’t care if she turns out to be the next goddamned Unabomber. Right now, she’s everything to me.

“Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me all of that,” she says when our waiter finally leaves.

“You deserve to know what happened.”

“No, you had every right to keep it to yourself. I would have never known had you not told me, so again, thank you.”

I think about my father’s budding run for Congress. Prynne is mixing some of the rice in with her chicken vindaloo. I hate to ruin her appetite with this additional bit of news, but it is related to what I’ve just revealed. Besides, if this relationship goes further, which I’m now hoping it will, she’s going to be just as much in the spotlight as I am. “Actually, there’s something else you should know.”

Her first spoonful is halfway to her mouth and it hangs there as she waits for me to drop the other shoe.

“My father is planning a run for Congress,” I say as she brings the spoonful to her mouth and chews. “I’m guessing he’s already been through the vetting process since he actually bothered to call me and tell me about it. Obviously, what happened at Princeton is going to be picked apart by the press so I’ll probably be an occasional news feature. Fair warning.”

I wait for Prynne’s reaction. She doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. She just silently chews her food, her eyes staring hard at me. I blink in surprise when tears actually begin to form. Was the news that bad?

“Oh…oh, no,” she whimpers.

“Prynne, it won’t be that terrible,” I say, leaning in closer to reassure her. “I’ll do what I can to ward it off. It helps that I don’t spend too much time around my dad. Trust me, if anyone, it’ll be yours truly that they focus on, not you.”

“No,” she mutters, shaking her head vigorously as the tears continue to flow. Now, she’s waving her hands as though shooing away an invisible fly. This is a bit of an overreaction.

“Prynne—”

“It’s so hot!” she finally says, her mouth opening up like a steam valve, sucking in air instead of releasing it, as though it will somehow cool off her tongue.

My eyes fall to her plate and I remember that she ordered the vindaloo. Even though I hate myself for it, I cough out a laugh, mostly from relief. No lie, it is also funny.

Prynne glares at me as she reaches for the water, obviously not finding it nearly as amusing as I do.

“No,” I say, placing my hand on top of hers before she can bring the water to her mouth. “This won’t help. Milk is what you want. Though here they have something better.”

I signal our waiter, who scurries over. “Can we get a glass of lassi?”

He nods with understanding. No doubt Prynne is not the first unsuspecting patron who has ordered something beyond her gastronomical capabilities. It takes him all of a minute to rush back to the kitchen, pour a glass, and bring it back to our table. That minute probably felt like an eon to Prynne, who forcibly grabs the glass and guzzles its contents down. The white liquid spills down her chin and onto her dress, giving me all sorts of sordid ideas, which are completely inappropriate for the moment. But I am a heterosexual man after all, and Prynne is just so damn delectable.

“That wasn’t funny,” she protests, slamming the empty glass down onto the tablecloth. Some of the lassi has dribbled onto the crook of her thumb and finger. There’s something about the image of her hand wrapped around that round glass, gripping it so forcefully as that white fluid coats the exact spot it would after she succeeded in bringing me to climax—

Sweet Jesus, Prynne, you have no idea what you do to a man.

“The lassi also didn’t help,” she continues, but there’s a noticeable lack of saturation to the red color that originally highlighted her face.

“Give it time,” I say with a grin. “I did warn you.”

She glares at me as she grabs the napkin to wipe away the residue of lassi from her hand and mouth. Once she’s clean, the frown turns into a smile, then a laugh. “Okay, yes, you did warn me.” She looks at the plate of barely touched vindaloo and the bottle of barely touched IPA beer and then grimaces.

“I’ve wasted so much tonight.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me somehow,” I say, wriggling my eyebrows suggestively.

Prynne laughs, then grabs a piece of garlic naan. “And just what did you have in mind.”

“Do you even need to ask?”

Her teeth nibble at the edge of the bread as she stares back at me, no doubt wondering how serious I am.

“Don’t worry, not sex.”

Now, she just looks confused and a little indignant, which I find perfectly amusing. “What then?”

I pause, making her wait for it before I answer. “How far do you want to go?”

A smile creeps to her face. “Last time wasn’t far enough?”

“No.”

The bluntness of my response startles her. The naan remains trapped between two teeth and her breath accelerates, causing the nostrils of that cute little nose to flare. She bites down, tearing the bread away with her teeth. Her eyes fall to the table as she chews.

“You’re curious,” I muse, enjoying the show her body language is putting on.

“Actually…I’m hungry,” she says, then laughs, her chin sinking into her chest with embarrassment.

I’m caught off guard for a moment before I start laughing too. “I’m going to assume that isn’t a euphemism.”

The way she’s eyeing my tikka masala tells me it isn’t. I lean back in my chair and consider her for a moment. “Tell you what, I’ll give you some of my food, but you have to do something for me.”

“Like what?” she asks with a teasing smile.

“Uh, uh, uh,” I admonish, wagging my finger at her. “That part is strictly on a need to know basis.”

I already know what I want. It’s harmless, perfectly tame compared to the bar set last weekend. But it’s fun to watch Prynne squirm, half from pleasure, as evinced by the gleam in those hazel eyes, half from nervousness, as revealed by the way she bites her lip.

“Agreed?”

She just nods, her cheeks both dimpling and going pink.

“Good girl,” I say, lowering my voice and my eyelids, both of which have an immediate effect.

Prynne’s pupils dilate and her breathing intensifies even more. Now both hands are holding the piece of naan as she nibbles away at it like a little mouse. I’m going to miss all this once she becomes jaded by this new lifestyle I’ve introduced her to.

For now, she’s still so much fun to play with.