Spending a Saturday night alone was bad enough…but spending it inside was unbearable. Ironically, it never used to bother me, but one evening with Ash changed that. Tonight, without Emma or Ash here to keep me company, I could no longer ignore just how lonely my life was.

So, I made a drink and took my tablet to the back yard—my version of getting out of the house. The humidity was tolerable once the sun went down, and the mosquitoes hadn’t been too bad lately. I figured I wouldn’t have a problem staying cool as long as I had an ice-cold Malibu and cranberry to sip.

Before moving in, I’d lucked out and found two chaise lounges at a garage sale. They’d been well taken care of and looked brand new, and to top it off, they were in my price range—dirt cheap. They fit perfectly in the back yard, though this was the first time they’d gotten any use.

I’d been outside for over an hour and was on my third drink when Ash’s sexy rumble came out of nowhere, catching me by surprise. “Mind if I join you?”

With very little light and clouds covering the moon above, I couldn’t see his face. Although, I didn’t exactly need to. His voice was sexy enough without the added visual of his tempting smirk or sinful eyes.

Ash didn’t wait for me to answer before he took the empty chair next to mine. Sitting on the edge with both feet planted firmly on the ground between us, he rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped together between his knees, and leaned forward. I could see his outline perfectly, down to the straight angle of his spine, and the silhouette of his muscular stature made my breath hitch.

“What’s the point in asking if I mind something if you’re just going to do it anyway?” I teased, laughing so he wouldn’t take me seriously and leave.

“I didn’t figure you would—the question was more or less rhetorical.” Even without seeing his face, the smile on his lips was heard loud and clear. “Call it a lucky guess.”

I set down my tablet, no longer needing solitaire to occupy my time. “Would you like anything to drink? I only have coconut rum, though. Not sure if that’s manly enough for you.”

“Nah, that’s okay. But thank you. I’d rather not impair my judgment around you. That doesn’t seem like a very safe situation to be in.”

“I’m on birth control. That makes it safe.”

“Fuck, Kris…” Apparently, he found it too difficult to utter both syllables.

I didn’t normally care for that moniker, but then again, I’d never heard it come from Ash. The grit that filled those four letters raised my body temperature at least five degrees, putting me in the feverish category. On top of that, having it follow something as lewd as “fuck” had me picturing his lip tucked between his teeth, his eyes nearly closed, and his hand fisted around his hard—

Whoa. Maybe the third drink wasn’t such a good idea.

“I’m trying to be good here, Kristy, but you’re making it hard.”

I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I can think of something else I could make hard.”

He groaned and fisted his hair. His harsh breaths made my body overheat—well, that and the rum. This conversation needed to move along before I straddled his lap and gave him no choice but to give me what I wanted. It’d only been one day since he had asked that we spend a little time getting to know each other, and considering I had agreed, it wouldn’t be fair of me to go back on my word now.

“Did you get those orders done?” That was the only question I could come up while thinking of his wood. “You said they had to be finished by the end of the weekend.”

He dropped his arms, and from what I could tell, he turned his face toward me. “Yeah. I just have to assemble them tomorrow to make sure there aren’t any issues, and then take them apart so they’ll fit in the trailer.”

“You deliver them, too?”

“Normally, yeah. But this particular guy always picks them up. He buys them from me and then sells them—along with a lot of other stuff—at some vintage market on the other side of town. It’s kind of like a cross between a flea market and art festival…minus the festival aspect.”

If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was nervous. Except, I’d been around him enough to quickly dismiss that idea. He had confidence in almost everything he did and said—from what I could tell—without being arrogant. Which was great, because I couldn’t stand cockiness. Nothing was more of a turn-off than a big ego.

I loved listening to him talk about his job; his talent fascinated me. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it like a bunch of tents outside or something? I usually hear about art shows coming to town. They’re typically in the spring and fall.”

“No, it’s not like that. Someone bought an old shopping center and converted it into an indoor market. Think of a mall but smaller, and rather than stores, the bays are rented out and individually run.”

“So he buys stuff from you and then turns around and sells it? Why wouldn’t you just do that yourself? I don’t understand why you wouldn’t rent out one of those spaces and get the sale yourself. Seems to me you’d get more business that way.”

“It wouldn’t be worth it. He has his area set up like a house with furniture and handmade wall art, as well as blankets and pillows and crap. I wouldn’t have any of that to bring in business. Not to mention, if anyone wants something special or different, he gives me a call and places an order, so I get the business either way. Letting him do this frees up my time to sell to other people.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” I extended my leg and nudged his knee with my foot. “Speaking of freeing up your time…how’s it going with the kitchen island?”

He grabbed my ankle and settled my bare foot in his lap, where he proceeded to rub the sole like a professional masseuse. “I haven’t started yet. I’ll probably look for plans tomorrow and then get everything I’ll need on Monday.”

The surprise of his touch—as well as the electric shock radiating up my calf—made me pause. Then, in order to speak without lust jumbling my words, I cleared my throat. “You know…you could stop wasting time coming here to tempt me and go home to get started on it now.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He pressed his thumb into the arch on my foot and stretched the soft muscle, pulling a moan past my lips. The sensation shot straight to the apex of my thighs and left me yearning for more.

“The faster you get done with that, the faster we can move to the fun part.” My words came out full of air and heavy with desire. There was no way he didn’t know what he was doing to me.

“If that’s what you really want, Kristy…then maybe you should let me get to know you.”

Not able to have this conversation while he touched me, I slipped my foot from his grasp and sat up straighter. I bent my knees and pulled them toward my chest, yet I stopped myself at wrapping my arms around my shins. I didn’t need him to think I was closed off. I just had to keep my distance before I became too desperate for his affection and threw myself at him, begging him to make this ache disappear. Because if he could leave my panties this wet from a little foot massage, I couldn’t image the things he could do with other places on my body.

“I just don’t know why this is so important to you, Ash. I mean, I’ve already told you I’m not interested in a relationship, so what’s the point in getting personal with one another?” That may have been a little too harsh, though I wasn’t sure how else to say it.

“Have you ever had sex with someone you didn’t really know?”

I had to think about that for a moment. Not because my list of sexual partners had been extensive, but because it’d been too long since I had intimacy of any kind. “No, I haven’t. I guess I’ve known them all on some level prior to sleeping with them.” Hearing my words replay in my mind, I gasped and added, “Not them all like there’s been a lot. I just meant the few guys I’ve been with—as in, collectively.”

Ash held up his hands, which was good since I still couldn’t see his face. “Hey, I’m not judging. I honestly don’t care how many men you’ve been with. As long as you’ve been safe, what difference does it make?”

“I appreciate that, but seriously, it hasn’t been many.”

Emma’s father had been my first, and after we split, it had taken years before anyone else had come along. I might’ve gone on countless dates, but the majority of them ended the second I got out of their car, never hearing from them again. There had been two different guys who’d helped me out through the years—friends with benefits, so to speak—and then my list ended with the last guy I had dated. Four partners might’ve made my grandmother call me promiscuous, but nowadays, it was as close to a virgin as a woman could get. Especially since I was over thirty and never married.

“Okay,” he continued, “and how many of those were you in a relationship with?”

I knew where he planned to go with this, yet I answered anyway. “Two.”

“Then why do you automatically think I’m looking for one just because I want to be better acquainted before we become physical with one another? Whether you call it convenient or no-strings-attached sex, friends with benefits or fuck buddies, it doesn’t change anything—it wouldn’t be the kind of relationship you’re insinuating.”

“Agreed…but that doesn’t mean we have to sit around and braid each other’s hair, either.”

He laughed, though it was barely audible. More than anything, his shoulders jumped, dancing to the tune of the hushed humor rolling through his chest. “I’m not saying we become best friends, Kristy. But there’s a lot to be said about knowing the person you’re sleeping with. Be real here for a minute. Most of the pressure would be put on me—size aside—and if I don’t have a decent understanding of what turns you on or where on your body to touch, how do you expect me to satisfy you the way you want me to?”

“Oh…” Well, that made more sense. “Okay, if that’s what you’re talking about, then by all means, let me tell you what gets me going.”

Before I could say another word, he shifted from his chair to mine, taking the empty spot at the end where my feet once were. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to move closer or what to do about it, so instead, I remained motionless out of fear he’d leave me hot and bothered again.

I couldn’t take the risk of that happening one more time.

“I don’t want you to draw me a map, Kris.” The rasp in his voice as it dipped told me far more than his words ever could. “I don’t need step-by-step instructions. Just give me a little time to understand you better. Again, I don’t see any reason to rush.”

Yeah, and I didn’t see the reason to become acquainted with one another without taking our clothes off, but I chose to give up on that argument. No need to make myself sound even more desperate or pathetic. “How do you propose we do that? Play Never Have I Ever? Truth-or-Dare?”

He lifted his hips off the cushion and pulled his cell from his pocket. When the screen lit up, I could finally see his face, and I couldn’t help but notice how young he appeared in the stark, white glow of the electronic. It was yet another reminder why this couldn’t turn into anything serious.

After quickly typing a few things with his thumbs, he finally stopped and cleared his throat. “Here, I found an app we could use. It’s a game that’ll help us learn things about each other. Do you want to give this a try and see where it goes?”

The ice rattled in the bottom of my plastic cup, reminding me I was out of alcohol. “Okay, fine. Download it while I get a refill. I have a feeling I’m going to need something strong to get through this game.” I pulled myself off the chair and turned to him before leaving. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

He glanced up, smiled, but then shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

While inside, I grabbed the large candle that I kept on the coffee table, unable to go much longer with him in the dark. Not to mention, if this game ended up being racy, I wanted to see his expression.

I carried the jar, lighter, and my fourth drink back outside, noticing he hadn’t left the end of my chair. I almost sat in the other, but then I thought better of it. I mean, he was the one who insisted that we took our time, so if he had a problem being that close to me, then he’d have to be the one who switched seats.

Once the wick came to life, the growing flame cast a glow wide enough I could see the smirk lining his lips. And before I took the first sip of my disproportionately mixed drink, I rethought my decision to add that extra shot of rum. I had a tendency to get flirtatious, as well as affectionate, when I drank. Then again, neither one would bother me—especially if it got him to cave.

Damn. I really needed to lay off the alcohol and buy a new toy.

This was getting ridiculous.

“Ready?” He lifted his gaze to my face and regarded me with a quirked brow. “There are different levels, but I figured we should start with the ones meant for people who have recently met. It generates the questions, so we’ll just take turns. Sound good?”

“Sure. Go for it.” I might not have sounded very enthusiastic, yet secretly, I was kind of excited to play. At least I didn’t have to spend the evening alone like I’d originally thought when I came out earlier.

He tapped on the screen and then asked, “Are you a morning person?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I don’t know anyone who is. My turn.”

Ash handed me the device, and while I tapped on the purple button to generate another prompt, he began to stroke his thumb over the top of my foot, distracting me until I could barely read the words on the screen.

“Oh, this is a good one.” I got all giddy when I saw the suggestive subject. “What’s your favorite body part on the opposite sex?”

The way he held my gaze should’ve been a sin. “I’m totally an ass man.”

“Come on…give me something better than that.”

“Yeah, because your answer was so profound. But fine.” He turned his attention to the dark sky, squinted for a moment as if deep in thought, and then dropped his chin with a wicked smirk on his face. “Your lips, because they make me wonder what they’ll look like wrapped around my dick while I watch you suck me off.”

I swallowed thickly and clenched my thighs together. It suddenly became sweltering outside, as though the mid-summer sun hovered directly overhead while I sat in front of an industrial heater with a fur coat draped over me.

My only hope was if his response affected me this way, maybe it did the same for him.

He took his cell and pressed his thumb to the screen. “Do you judge a book by its cover?”

“Yes, and if you disagree, then you’re a liar. Everyone does.” I held out my hand, too impatient to find out what he’d have to admit to next. And after seeing what it generated, I couldn’t help but thank the creators of this ridiculous game. “Do you watch porn?” There was a second part to that, yet I didn’t see the point in it. I didn’t care about his view on pornography…only if he viewed it.

He dropped his gaze and muttered, “Yes. My turn.”

I clutched his phone to my chest, refusing to hand it over. “Not so fast, Ash. By all means, elaborate on this for me. What kind? How often? What do you do while watching it?”

To my surprise, he held my stare with utter intensity, not shying away like he had a moment ago. “I’m not picky, but if I had to choose a favorite, it would be one with an older woman and younger guy—hot babysitter, sexy tutor, dad’s new wife. You get the idea. But I don’t watch it often, maybe once every other month or so. And I think you know what I do, Kristy. But since you want to hear me say it…I jack-off.”

Even though his voice deepened during that last admission, it still didn’t seem to affect him as much as it had me. Regardless, I ended my turn and waited for him to direct another question my way. But when he asked, “Do you believe in karma?” I snatched the device from him.

“This is a bunch of crap. You keep getting all the stupid ones. I’m over the easy level; let’s move on to this one.” I tapped the option for seasoned lovers and passed it back, feeling a little more hopeful that my next response would leave him just as aroused as I was.

He raised his brows as if making sure I was okay with this, yet he proceeded to read from the screen anyway. “What’s the dirtiest fantasy you’ve ever had?”

Well, now we were talking.

I rested my head against the cushion and closed my eyes, conjuring up the dirtiest of them all—years of celibacy had left me to my own imagination. My lips vibrated with a hum just before I returned my eyes to his. Yeah, he’d have to look at me while I painted him a picture he wouldn’t soon forget.

“Having your hand between my legs while sitting at a dinner table with others—like a wedding or business meeting—and no one knowing that you have your fingers deep inside me, making me come while we ate dessert.”

His chest began to rise slowly, and his eyes appeared to grow darker while holding my stare. There was no way that didn’t get to him the way his responses had gotten to me. I almost felt vindicated…until he practically growled, “In this fantasy, how many fingers do I have inside you, Kris?”

At nothing more than the thought of it, my clit began to throb, desperate for attention. I only hoped he was just as hard and on the brink of giving in. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out, won’t you?”

I fought against the smile begging to curl my lips. I couldn’t chance giving away my MO, even though he’d likely already figured it out. Taking my turn, I read the next prompt. “Did you ever fantasize about fucking one of your teachers?”

“Of course. In case you haven’t gotten it by now, Kris…I like my women older. While everyone else focused on the newly single cheerleader or the hot blonde who’d just transferred from another school, I was rubbing one out to the thought of my algebra teacher.”

“Please don’t tell me you ever slept with any of them.”

“Never. I’m well aware of the line between right and wrong, Kristy. And while I may want something I can’t have, that doesn’t mean I’d disregard the law or do anything to endanger someone else’s livelihood.”

“You said you may want something you can’t have…but you can have it now. Which is why it confuses me that you won’t go after it. There’s no law stating we can’t be together.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “I have principles, Kristy. That’s all you need to worry about.”

I didn’t push the issue, sensing his frustration—and I wasn’t sure it was strictly sexual, either. Instead, I let him have his turn and waited for him to ask me something good.

“In your opinion, what does it mean to be good in bed?”

I hoped he paid attention to this one. “Someone who’s passionate, who takes the lead and gives me what I want without needing to be told. A guy who is focused on more than himself. I’d say someone who can get me off without the need for me to touch myself, but considering that seems to be an impossible task, I no longer have that standard. Oh, and foreplay. The thing that makes a guy really good in bed is his pre-game strategy.”

Nodding, he muttered, “Good to know,” and then held out the device for me to take.

“Where’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Dropping his head into his hands, he huffed loudly and slumped his shoulders. Frustration rumbled in the back of his throat, and I became excited that this might be the moment where he gave in, even just a little. But rather than give me anything, he took his cell and locked the screen. “You know what? This was a bad idea.”

Words clogged my throat, unable to make their way to my lips to voice my concern over what had happened or ask why he’d suddenly changed his mind. What was worse, I couldn’t move, as though his reaction had left me frozen where I sat. And in a desperate attempt to protect my ego—or prevent my heart from breaking through my chest like I was convinced it would do—I wrapped my arms around my shins and folded into myself as much as possible.

Yet I should’ve known better. Every time he’d left me crushed under the weight of rejection, he had this magical way of licking my wounds without going back on his word. This time, he didn’t even need to see my face to accept the damage his actions had done. Instead, he scooted closer until he practically sat on my toes, settled his hand on the cushion while loosely cradling the side of my ass, and dropped his forehead to the dip between my knees.

And when he spoke, his deep vibrato could’ve easily been mistaken for the roar of an avalanche. “You have me so hard I can’t think straight. If I don’t put a stop to it, I’ll regret it later.”

My defenses vanished at the sound of his voice—the struggle that laced each syllable and the strain he’d used to form them into words. But the second my fingers threaded through his hair, he relaxed, his shoulders falling with his swift exhale against my bare skin.

Up until this moment, I’d been determined to make him give up on this idea that we needed to understand one another better before engaging in a physical relationship. I didn’t understand it, so that somehow meant it didn’t matter. But now, after finally getting a reaction from him—though not the one I’d expected—I realized that whether it made sense to me or not was irrelevant. For whatever reason, it was important to him, and I couldn’t fault him if his standards were where mine should’ve been.

I’d never met a man who opposed random hookups, and considering Ash’s age, I hadn’t assumed he’d be any different. Yet he was. And I had to respect that. I slipped his phone from his loose grip, causing him to lift his head and regard me with curiosity.

“Unlock the screen, please.”

“Why? I told you, I can’t play this—”

“Just unlock it, Ash. I’m not going to make you keep playing.” Immediately after I finished getting the words out, I regretted them. Just because he was younger than me didn’t give me the right to treat him like a child.

On the bright side, he did as I’d requested without arguing. Albeit, his thoughts were clear as day on his face. He pinned me with a stare and warned me with raised brows. It was like a silent tongue-lashing, one I didn’t need him to repeat in order to understand. While he’d kept his mouth shut, he hadn’t appreciated my tone.

It wasn’t hard to pick up on his dominant traits. In fact, it was one of the things I’d noticed about him the first time we met. He hadn’t stayed long that day, nor had we talked much, but his reluctance to let me finish unpacking my car on my own was enough to acknowledge his complete alpha-male personality. It had been a turn-on then, as well as in the pool the following weekend, in my garage a few days after that, and especially in my kitchen last night.

Nevertheless, there was one thing he needed to learn about me, too. I may have enjoyed it when a man took charge; however, that didn’t mean I’d always sit back and bite my tongue. If I had something to say, I’d say it. If I had an opinion, I’d share it. And if I had questions, I’d ask until they were all answered. So, while I felt bad for speaking to him like a child, I wouldn’t apologize, because in the end, it gave me what I wanted. With that being said, I had no intention of letting it happen again.

Unless, of course, he wanted me to pretend to be his babysitter.

Never mind…that thought alone was enough to creep me out. There was no way I’d actually be able to follow through with it.

I shook off that disturbing mental picture and stared at his unlocked screen. There was a lot to be said about someone blindly trusting you with their cell. Most people had pictures or messages they didn’t want others to snoop through, yet he just sat there with his chin on my knee, unable to see what I was doing as I tapped away.

After adding my contact information, I handed it back with a smile. “I appreciate that you want to learn things about me before we have sex. It’s admirable, really. We live next door to each other, and the last thing I want is to create tension where there doesn’t need to be any. I think it’s smart to take our time and not rush.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect to hear you say that.” The easy, satisfied grin on his lips played in his voice and wrapped around each word. It was a stark contrast to the frustration he’d displayed a few minutes earlier.

“However”—I held up a finger to make him pay attention to what came next—“I can’t sit out here with you, in the dark, after a few mixed drinks, and discuss our favorite colors or movies or our best childhood memories. It’s no secret that I’m sexually attracted to you, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s a mutual feeling.”

“You’re definitely not wrong, Kristy.”

I nodded, hoping I could finish this without making myself out to be a nymphomaniac. “Okay, so we’re on the same page. Which means, at this point, I think text messages would be best. That way, you won’t be tempted to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Would you agree?”

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” His voice was so low it reverberated through the air and rumbled along my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“And I’ll try my best to keep our conversations clean.”

The flickering flame caught a gleam in his eye that made my arousal return in an instant. “No, don’t hold back, Kris. I want to hear those things…just not when I’m in front of you with a hard-on I can’t do anything about.”

There was no point in reminding him that I could do something about it if he’d let me. I’d given it my best, and I’d come to the conclusion that he was as determined to wait as I was not to, and in the end, I wouldn’t win. Pressuring him wouldn’t do either of us any good, so for now, I’d have to play it his way. And if that meant spending my evenings alone in my house while he did the same fifty feet away, sending texts to one another in order to make him feel like we weren’t rushing…then so be it.

When he pushed against the armrests of the chaise, I expected him to pull himself to his feet. What I didn’t anticipate was him using the leverage to lean over my knees and brush his cheek against mine. Or his lips coming close to my ear as he whispered, “Goodnight, Kris.”

I mumbled, “Night, Ash,” just as he climbed off the chair.

And with nothing but the glow of the candle to highlight his departure, I watched him cross the yard to his back patio and then disappear inside. All the while, the intense ache between my legs grew deeper and more unbearable until I was forced to retire to my room and take care of it myself.

Aside from a few texts Saturday night before falling asleep—thanks to the rum and self-induced orgasm—I hadn’t heard a peep from Ash.

I believed if I could figure out what made him tick, then his constant hot and cold demeanor wouldn’t make me second-guess my every move like some insecure teenager. It was amazing what a little sexual tension could do to a woman who’d all but dried up from a lack of intimacy.

As much as I’d wanted to reach out, I decided to leave the ball in his court. I still needed a few more green lights before I would feel comfortable initiating conversation. I’d done enough of that only to be turned down after every attempt, so I refused to try again until I had a better understanding of things.

Emma always made fun of me, but on weeknights, I got ready for bed around nine. I’d watch a little TV or play a game on my tablet for about an hour, and then I’d turn the light off at ten. So, when nine o’clock rolled around, and I still hadn’t heard from Ash, I gave up. And at nine thirty, when Candy Crush no longer occupied my thoughts, I reached over and flicked off the light. Which must’ve been some sort of Batman signal for Ash, because less than sixty seconds later, my phone chirped with a message, his name lit up on my screen.

Part of me didn’t want to respond, irritated with whatever game he played. But then I realized that would make me no better than him. The mature thing to do would be to text him back to see what he wanted, and then let him know I was going to bed. If he wanted to talk, then next time, he’d have to reach out earlier.

I stared at the window, even though I couldn’t see anything through the slanted blinds.

I didn’t even know where to start with that one. Choosing to ignore his reason for recognizing I’d gone to bed, or how he even knew which room mine was, I focused more on the first issue—his waiting for me to go to sleep before sending a message.

That might’ve been too harsh, especially considering it was written word and the interpretation of tone was left to the person reading it. I hadn’t meant it to be terse, though there was a chance he’d taken it as such. However, I refused to follow it up with an explanation. If he assumed I was irritated or mad, then maybe it would force him to do something about it tomorrow night—preferably before nine o’clock.

If he came back with something non-sexual, he’d have to continue that conversation with himself, because I wasn’t in the mood to get my hopes up and then sit back while they came crashing to the ground around me in a sad pile of unfulfilled arousal.

Okay, so maybe I could give him one more chance.

After all, my question hadn’t been very specific.

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, deciding to offer him one more chance.

But this would be the last one.

I’d likely give up on him completely if he came back inquiring my favorite anything.

There were plenty of other men out there who’d happily get me off; I didn’t need to endure this kind of torture to get it. Not to mention, I’d be pissed if I went through all this only to be left unsatisfied after getting him naked.

Now, that got my attention.

I lifted the covers and took note of my long-sleeved nightshirt and cotton shorts. They were cute, and definitely comfortable, but I doubted a guy in his early twenties would find it very sexy. So, I decided to have a little fun and tell him that I had on something far sexier than I did.

Okay, so I’d tried to come up with something hot, yet no one in their right mind would believe that a single mom who hadn’t been touched in more than two years would be sleeping—alone—in lingerie. Not to mention, I’d never owned any, so I wouldn’t begin to know how to describe it. The only thing I could come up with was crotch-less panties, which was out of the question. I had a better chance of convincing him I slept in full-body latex.

Yeah right. I’d rather strip off my clothes than tell him I’d made it up.

I almost dropped my phone on my face when I barked out a laugh, not at all expecting him to say anything close to that. Aside from his X-rated promises the other night regarding the deal we’d made over the island for my kitchen, he’d kept things rather controlled. Apparently, I should’ve suggested texting a long time ago.

Oh, hell no. He was not leaving this up to me.

That wasn’t a lie. I’d always been turned on by the idea of phone sex, yet I was too gun-shy to actually do it. I could talk a good game until I got onto the field, which was why I preferred someone who could take charge. Plus, I’d have to have someone on the other end of the line, and since I didn’t date, that made it a little difficult.

It was possible that his declaration to fisting his erection was no different than my claim of being naked. But there was one thing I knew without a doubt…if what he said wasn’t true, it very likely would be if I kept this up.

Had he not put me on the spot, I probably could’ve come up with at least two dozen things to say. But alas, he had to go and ask me for a specific answer, and now, my brain wouldn’t work. Which led me to my Google app, where I proceeded to search for things to say while sexting.

I clicked the first link, then scrolled past the article I didn’t have time to read. The first suggestion I came across that would actually make sense was, “Imagine me taking you into my mouth as far as you’ll go,” so I quickly copied it, knowing I’d forget all the words as soon as I switched back to the text app.

Too bad I didn’t read over it before I hit send. I was worried he would question how long it’d taken me to reply, so I had literally hit the paste option and then the blue arrow, only realizing a second later that I’d somehow managed to copy the wrong one.

Dammit.

That text might not have started out as truthful, but it certainly ended that way.

As much as I wanted to, I was a little too intimidated to follow through. Part of me just wanted to ride this out—no pun intended—see how it went, and then go for it next time. But the other part of me was paranoid that he’d know if I faked it.

In the end, research won.

My heart began to thump as I waited for his response.

And the longer it went on, the more impatient I became.

After an entire minute, I began to wonder if maybe he’d finished already and had to clean it up. I was convinced he’d text back to let me know he got too excited or something. Then another minute passed with no word. Followed by another. Then I grew angry, assuming he’d gotten his so that was the end of that.

It didn’t matter that my orgasm would be fabricated, the argument still remained—he’d left me high and dry.

I started to furiously type a response, letting him know I didn’t need him to get me off, that I was perfectly capable of doing it myself. But when I stopped focusing on the keypad and glanced at the text box to ensure I hadn’t misspelled anything in my haste, I realized nothing I’d typed had gone through. Tapping on random letters didn’t help; nothing popped up in the window. I even tried smashing my finger against the blue arrow that usually sent messages, hoping it would fix the problem, and still nothing.

Backing out of the app didn’t work.

Closing it out didn’t, either.

In fact, all that did was block me from getting back in.

I held down the two side buttons to reset it, and then waited impatiently until the white icon lit up the black screen. To which I continued to stare at it, wondering why it hadn’t come back on. It never took this long to reboot.

Apparently, much like how a watched pot never boils, staring at a phone prevents it from turning on. I had no idea what happened, but it seemed my phone froze and refused to come back to life. I’d convinced myself I’d gotten a virus from my search for sexting suggestions, the same way people got them from watching porn on their devices.

After close to ten minutes of trying to get the damn thing to do something, I gave up, setting it on my nightstand to leave for tomorrow. If it was still frozen by the time I got up in the morning, I would take it to the store on my lunch hour and see if they could resuscitate it.

And then I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. My brain wouldn’t stop obsessing over the texts, the phone, what he thought had happened. It would be my luck that he assumed I’d ignored him or got bored. I couldn’t begin to guess what he’d convinced himself of. But as soon as I heard the telltale vibration next to me, I shot straight up and grabbed my cell off the nightstand.

There was no telling if this was only temporary, so I had to work fast.

Instantly, message after message popped up—all from Ash.

I scrolled to the part just before the issue, and the more I read, the less I could breathe.

The last text came in about ten minutes ago.

I dropped my arm to the mattress, closed my eyes, and let out a roar of frustration. Last night, Ash had asked if I believed in karma, and rather than respond, I had switched the level to get options that were more adult. But now, as I pictured him going soft in his hand after my text had somehow formed words and gone through, I knew what the answer was.

Yes. I believed in karma.

And for some reason, the bitch was clam-jamming me.

There was no way any normal person had this much trouble getting laid.

If only I knew what the hell I’d done wrong, so I could make it right.