Then, he closed his eyes and leaned back as he ran his fingers through his hair, as if torn between what was right and what he wanted. He bent down and French kissed me, allowing me to taste my own juices on his lips. Then, he pulled back, breathless. "Not tonight. Don't get up. I'll get you a towel."

He hurried down the hallway toward the bathroom, and I already felt his absence. He was back a moment later and ran a warm, wet rag between my legs, and then dried me off with a ...