WHEN I WOKE the next morning, it was to Slade, making love to me once again, only this time he was much gentler.
“I’m sorry,” he said, afterward, as he held me in his arms.
“For what?”
“Being a little rough last night.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Would it be weird of me to say I kind of enjoyed it?”
“Nothing about you is weird,” he said, trailing his finger up and down my arm, giving me goosebumps. “Only the fact that you want me in your bed.”
I snorted. “Right. Do you happen to know how many girls want you in their bed?”
“But you know what I really am.”
“Yes I do. You’re a man. My man.”
Slade grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. Then he turned it over, doing the same to my palm. “You’re amazing.”
“You bring it out in me.”
“No. It’s what drew me
