At one point, Amanda had genuinely believed she had ruined everything between them—the friendship, the marriage, everything. When she apologized and stood to leave, a part of her was already trying to think of a way to explain the separation to her parents. She hadn’t expected him to take her wrist.
She hadn’t expected him to kiss her.
She hadn’t expected him to invite her to his bed.
Amanda hadn’t even hoped for the latter, because it seemed like something that could only happen in her most fevered fantasies. He wanted to take it slow. What did it matter how slow or fast they went? It only mattered that he did want her, that he would let her kiss him, and touch him, and maybe more.
Amanda never went into his bedroom. He respected her privacy, and she respected his. So when he gently l
