The next morning, I roll over in bed and am instantly reminded of the night before. Iâm sore. Everywhere. My throat, breasts, and mostly between my thighs. Cam gave me a deliciously painful workout. Hopefully not the last of those. It was amazing. Passionate and exciting. I didnât know sex could feel so intense. With Bryan, it was a chore. Hunched over, waiting for him to finish. Only twice did we have sex facing each other, and it was early in the relationship. After that, it was always the same way, and after a while, it became emotionless.
My eyes finally open to see the sunâs position high in the sky. I slept in. When was the last time that happened? I grab my phone off the nightstand, hardly remembering plugging it in last night. After the sex, I ate an absurd amount of shepherdâs pie and crashed. My hand brushes a piece of paper, and it falls to the floor. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I snatch it up and flip it over, squinting to read.
Shit. My arms thrash as I throw off the covers, the aches even more apparent after moving my major muscle groups. After I get to my feet, I open the bedroom door and hobble out, colliding head-on with about ten garbage bags of stuff. My stuff.
I rip into the first bag; he got my clothes! I drag the bag to the small kitchen table and begin folding and stacking the pieces.
âUnderwear!â I raise my arm in triumph. Oh, hell yeah! Iâve been washing and rotating the same three pairs for way too long. I donât even care heâs seen all my lingerie. He saw a lot more last night anyway.
The next bag is filled with sweaters and jeans. Next, winter coats. Not all my shoes are here, but the ones he took are the most versatile. Smart man. After that, purses and jewelry. Makeup. He even grabbed my toothbrush. I have my things back!
How did he already get all this accomplished this morning? I grab my phone and text him.
Clearly. For a sister? Or maybe a woman heâs helped through Safehouse?
I smile. Why does him talking about me in the third person make my thighs tingle? Iâve got kinks coming out of the fucking woodwork after last night. A decent person would feel guilty about having sex so soon after breaking off an engagement. Not me. Guess Iâm not a perfect angel. My villain era is well underway.
Humans arenât meant to have quiet, boring, faceless sex. It was passionate and wild. He lit a fire in my soul. I woke up physically weak but emotionally empowered. The opposite of previous relationships. There is so much of myself Iâve ignored or suppressed over the years, but I got a taste of freedom last night. Sex the way I want it. How can one person teach me so much about myself?
No matter what comes of us, Iâll never regret my night with him. Camden isnât available; he doesnât do relationshipsâwhich I respect, but itâs hard not to feel a slight disappointment. When Iâm ready to start dating againâif I date againâI want someone who will consume me the way Cam did. I shouldnât get involved with anyone, but . . . knowing such a chemistry exists in the world is enough to give me hope for a chance at something great.
After years of numb intimacy, I could finally feel again. The sex was emotionally charged, and our connection was terrifyingly powerful, but he made me feel safe when I was most vulnerable. It was the first time Iâve been face-to-face with someone in a long time, and even then, itâs never been like that. He seemed to feel it too. Does he feel that with every woman heâs with? Selfishly, I want it to be exclusive to me, which is a dangerous seed to plant.
He didnât let me take the easy way out when I got scared. I didnât know it, but it was exactly what I needed.
Iâm never sacrificing my own sexual pleasure for another man again. From now on, sex is on my terms. I want someone who will call me a slut because he knows I enjoy being objectified, not because he thinks Iâm fucking someone on the side. Have him whisper filthy things that send waves of ecstasy down my spine instead of fear. I want him to bite, spit, and pull my hair because it brings me pleasure, not pain.
Camden opened so many new doors last night but made sure I entered by my own volition. Whereas, Bryan shoved me inside and locked it.
Perched on the laundry room countertop, waiting for the last load of clothes to dry, I get caught up on my to-do list by sending cancellation emails to each of the wedding vendors. Ironically, thatâs when a text comes through from Bryan. Camden helped me get the VPN set up on my phone, so now I can use it without worry.
The only reason I havenât blocked him is to keep a record of his hostility in case I need it for evidence. Usually, I ignore his texts, but curiosity gets the best of me and I open the message history. There are so many. They oscillate between rage and remorse. Yells at me in one, apologizes the next.
That was the day I got fired.
A smirk spreads across my face. Heâs losing it.
And expectations? Give me a break. Should I expect heâs going to fuck my friends on the side? Hit me when heâs angry? I want to text back, but I feel like he would use it against me somehow. Heâs already destroyed the normalcy in my life, I wonât load the gun for him too.
Now that Iâve got my things, itâs time to make it official. The wedding date has been creeping closer, and I need to tell my parents before they catch wind from the wedding vendors Iâve already canceled.
I check the time, 6:00 p.m. in Monaco. I click their name, and it rings twice before my mom picks up.
âJordana!â
âHey, Mom . . . we need to talk.â