"But," he went on. I lifted my head. "That doesn't address the problem. You tried to use
your submission to manipulate me. You shouldn't feel bad about not getting me a gift. You
don't owe me anything like that. But you do owe me honesty, and I don't feel like you were
honest with me. Do you?"
Swallowing hard, I shook my head.
Suddenly he was no longer lurking behind me, but kneeling down on the floor in front
of me. But his posture was completely different from mine, when I'd been at his feet. He
wasn't supplicating. Even as he looked up at me, I never doubted who was in control of this
situation.
"You give yourself to me freely," he said. "As a gift. Not to manipulate me, or to
apologize for something you think you did wrong. I don't want it any other way. Do you
understand?"
I nodded, my heart throbbing in my chest.
He stood, extending his hand to me, and I took it. He pulled me to my feet, and into
him, our bodies crashing together so fast it made my head spin. Before I had a moment to
recover, he was kissing me.
It hit me in a rush: how long it had been since we'd really seen each other, spent any
time together, touched like this. Like nothing else mattered. Like there were no schedules or
deadlines or meetings or anything else but me and him. A man and a woman who wanted to
touch each other. Needed to touch each other.
That crazy old fuck in the bookstore was right.
Daniel kissed me until I was dizzy, until the only thing I knew was the feel of his tongue, the taste of his mouth. When he finally let go of me, I still clung to him, feeling weak
and unsteady.