He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, but there was a note on the bed. “Gone for a run,” it said. “Be back at 7.00am.” I looked at the time. 6.30. Ugh. I was going to be a sleep-deprived mess all day.
I debated going back to sleep, and I might have, had I known Maxwell better. But I didn’t, really, and so I got up and went into the shower. The hot water played a role in waking me up, thankfully.
I wrapped a hotel bathrobe around myself that I found in the linen closet, and then I wandered back to bed.
Maxwell had been right last night; we needed to discuss hard and soft limits.
I didn’t know anything about what he preferred, but I knew what I didn’t want to do. I found a notepad by the phone, grabbed a pen, and started writing.
I didn’t want to make this a long, extensive list. I want
