“You didn’t make me come,” I rasp through swollen, numb lips. It’s more of an accusation than a taunt. Almost a whine. “Are we going to sleep together tonight, Rory?” he asks seriously, looking away. “It…it’s not your turn to ask a question,” I stutter. He is the most direct person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know what to make of it. “I’ll owe you one. Now answer.”
