“I thought you were going to make me suffer.” My voice is thick. “I was.” He cups a palm and scoops cool water over my breasts, rinsing the suds away. I shudder. “I changed my mind.” “Why?” “I’m not angry anymore.” “Why not?” I shouldn’t push. Why am I pushing? He takes his time replying. When he answers, he seems surprised. “I wanted you back. You’re here now. It’s all good.”
