He inclines his head—it’s more acknowledgement than it is agreement. “And what do you think that means?”

I lick my lips, my mouth dry, palms sweaty. “That you’re going to . . .”

“I’m going to?” he prompts.

The words stick in my throat, like I’ve tried to swallow a pill without water. “I shouldn’t have listened to Violet. I should’ve messaged you first. I didn’t think. I-I-I—”

“Charlene, stop.” He places his wet thumb against my lips, and I taste my own sadness.

Darren takes my face in his palms. I memorize the feel of his fingers sliding along the edge of my jaw, consider what the absence of his touch will be like. Remember how the fear that Darren could be traded at the end of the season has plagued me all day.

I brace myself as he tips my head up. “Look at me.”

I have no choice but to comply. I try to stop my chin from quivering, but I’m too unnerved to manage my emotions.

He sweeps his thumbs under my eyes as new tears free themselves. “Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what are you so upset about?”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “I-I—” I have to take several deep breaths to calm down and organize my thoughts. “You didn’t want anyone to know.” I motion to the lingerie and surrounding sex toys. “And now they do. So I thought maybe . . . it might mean that you’d—”

He waits for me to go on.

“End this.” The words barely carry.

“End this?” His expression shifts to confusion.

“Us. End . . . us.” My stomach churns at the thought. Losing Darren would mean giving up a lot more than a boyfriend. He’s connected to almost every single important person in my entire world.

His eyes flare. “Do you honestly believe I would walk away from you over something so trite?” His jaw tics. “Have I ever been that rash in my decision making?”

“No, but—” I bite my lip and drop my gaze. It’s hard to look at him when he’s this intense. His severe beauty is more than I can handle sometimes.

“Is it unfortunate? Yes. Will it create unpleasant questions? Most likely, yes.” He traces the contour of my eyebrow, sweeping along my temple. “Help me understand what’s happening in this beautiful head that would make you come to such an extreme conclusion.”

“I just thought, I don’t know. I broke a promise. The only promise. I guess in my head it’s the same as if I’d gone back on an NDA.”

I’ve taken great pride in my ability to keep our private life private. Well, I mean, obviously I talk to Violet about the things I can, but I never tell her what really happens behind closed doors.

“Did you happen to write an exposé chronicling our sex life in an attempt to blackmail me in addition to this?” He makes a sweeping motion to encompass the circle of toys and lingerie.

“No, I just gave all of your closest friends a very vivid peek into what we do when no one else is watching.” Now that I’m not quite so worried about Darren breaking up with me, embarrassment is setting in.

His cheek tics, not with a smile exactly, but a hint of mischievous humor makes his eyes glint. “I’m sure they’re having a very interesting conversation about it at this precise moment. And I’m even more certain questions will follow for both of us, which is why we need to discuss how this changes things.”

“Oh.” Wow. I went way overboard with the internal drama on this one.

“Come. You’re shaking; you need to sit.” He keeps hold of one hand and wraps his other around my waist, guiding me to the couch.

I drop to the cushion and immediately spring back up, face mashing into Darren’s chest. His fingers curl around my arms. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Shit. I forgot how thoroughly I prepared for any possible scenario this evening, which is saying something about my state of anxiety and might explain why it’s been bouncing around in my clit so hard.

“Between the tears and how jumpy you are, I’m going to disagree that you’re fine.” He smooths a palm down my back. I try to shift away before he reaches my ass, but my calves are pressed against the couch and I’m wearing sky high stilettos—which accounts for the sore ankles—so my coordination is somewhat lacking. I accidently step on the end of the blanket, tugging it free from my grasp, which means I’m once again naked—apart from shoes, and pearls. At least this time there are no other witnesses.

“Maybe I should get dressed before we talk about how to deal with this,” my suggestion is super pitchy.

Darren’s eyes narrow as I attempt to untangle my heel from the blanket. It’s one of those soft, hand knitted ones from a super-cute store downtown. I pointed it out to Darren once when we were out for dinner, and the next time I came over it was draped over the reading chair he bought me last year. The chair doesn’t often get used for reading, and the blanket doesn’t match Darren’s décor, but it’s sweet that he bought it for me.

Unfortunately, I’m now caught up in his thoughtfulness. Literally.

“Turn around for me, Charlene.” Darren’s voice is low, commanding.

My entire body flashes with goose bumps. Oh shit. His expression is no longer serious. Instead a dark smile appears briefly. I can’t decide right now if that’s a good or a bad thing.

I turn slowly, fighting the urge to crane my neck so I can see his face. I shudder as he drags a single knuckle from the top of my spine to my tailbone and then lower. Fanning out his fingers, he skims the pink, fuzzy bunny tail—which is attached to a butt plug that’s currently parked in my ass.

“I see you had expectations for tonight,” he murmurs.

“No expectations,” I breathe.

“I don’t think that’s true.” His lips are at my ear, his fingers spread across the underside of my jaw, palm resting against the base of my throat as his other hand trails along my hip, palm flattening under my navel as his chest comes flush with my back.

His shirt is cotton, soft and warm, his belt buckle is a cold shock resting against my low back. I exhale on a whimper when Darren’s fingertips graze the crest of my pubic bone, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against my low belly, his thick erection putting pressure on the plug through the barrier of his jeans.

“I wanted to be prepared for whatever you needed tonight,” I whisper.

“Ah, you were being thoughtful, then?”

“I know today was stressful for you.” It sure was stressful for me, even more so in the past twenty minutes.

“All this trouble you went to.” His teeth graze the sensitive skin at the side of my neck. “It was definitely a stressful day, and you would’ve been the perfect surprise had circumstances been different.”

“I’m sorry.” I need to stop saying that.

“Actions always speak so much louder than words, don’t they?” His voice is a shadow looming. “Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”

DARREN

It’s a good thing Charlene can’t see my face right now. It’s difficult to not smile, which is the reason I have her in this position. Of all the relationships I’ve been in—which isn’t all that many considering most women aren’t excited about signing an NDA before the first date—Charlene is hands down my favorite sexual partner. She’s my favorite everything, really.

Her throat bobs with a nervous swallow under my palm. I bite the shell of her ear. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

She stumbles forward a step when I release her. She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t ask any questions, simply waits for instructions. It looks like she’s giving me the reins tonight. I bite my knuckle as I consider the plethora of sex toys and then Charlene. She really is gorgeous, with her long auburn hair piled on top of her head to expose the gentle line of her neck, slender shoulders rolled back, and that pink bunny tail peeking out from between her ass cheeks is just . . . adorably sexy. If there was a sex toy that could encapsulate Charlene’s personality, it’s that goddamn butt plug.

Here’s the thing about Charlene: I know what she wants better than she does. And it sure isn’t that fucking mammoth dragon cock sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Charlene has an incredibly wild imagination, and she loves to read every dirty, smutty book she can get her hands on.

She also thinks she wants to try everything, but sometimes she jumps in head first and then realizes what she thought, and what truly is, are not the same. So she’ll come at me with the most extreme of extremes, and I’ve learned from experience and trial and error to feed into it, then dial it all the way back until we’re a few shades out from vanilla. That way she’s not at risk of having a full-on panic attack over the possibility that I might try something she’s not ready for.