Oh, for the love of God. Why did he have to go and say something like that? Now, all I want to do, all I’m dying to do, is ask him to tell me exactly what he dreams of. Is it me? The office? The spa? The gala bathroom? Something else, something new, something better, something worse? Is it wholesome or depraved? Is he in charge or am I? Does it end with fireworks, or does it end with one of us whimpering, Please, don’t leave me like this. Don’t let me—
A group of joggers swerve around us, breaking the spell. I whirl away, hug myself, and start my count back over from zero. “We should head back.”
“Because I shouldn’t be here.”
Because even that one word is enough to chip away at my resolve.
“Because this?” I explode as I gesture wildly between us. “This bullshit, this facade? It’s not
