I had always chalked up my lack of libido to my chaotic mind and my inability to finish. One tryst with Miles had changed that completely. He hadn’t fixed me, but he was patient. And that was better than any fictional, penetration-only orgasm. Part of me—a rather large part—hoped that maybe he cared about me as more than a job. But we were already blurring lines. I didn’t want to make things messier than they already were. I didn’t have time for a relationship, or even a flirtationship. Situationship?
