Is this what likeness was? I’d never truly experienced it before. I’d been attracted to men, sure, but never gotten close enough emotionally to truly like them.

And to think, I used to hate the heroines in my books for turning into spineless goo around a man. If this was just a tenth of what they felt, then I was in deep shit.

Because at this rate, I was becoming one of them.

*****

It wasn’t dreaming that brought me back to that horrid event every morning. It was the feeling of waking up. The one thing that stayed with me – imprinted into my soul like a tattoo – was the fear I felt when I woke up.

It was a fear that churned my stomach and made my heart race. It made my skin break out in sweat and my body tremble. The fear of being hurt, of confronting what I’d done – the lives I’d ruined because of my actions – that was what came crashing down on me every morning.

I opened my mouth just as the panic swept it. Like a machine, I stepped back into the usual dreaded routine that occupied me most mornings. Jumping out of bed, I raced out of my bedroom. Nearly tripping over my feet, I made it just in time to hunch over the toilet and throw up.

Nothing came up. I wrapped my arm around my sore stomach and dry heaved over and over again. Until hot tears started falling down my face, reminding me of my pathetic weakness.

I’m vile. So fucking vile.

I nearly startled out of my skin when a hand touched my shoulder.

And then reality came crashing down like a wall of bricks. I remembered last night. The club. My stranger. The sex. And then I realized what I was wearing. Or lack thereof.

I’m naked.

I’m naked because I had sex with a man.

A man I barely know.

And he’s watching me right now.

Naked.

Throwing up.

Ah, fuckity-fuck times a million fucks.

“Are you alright?” Ben asked, and then he added just as quickly, “Stupid question, actually. You clearly aren’t. Let me put your hair up –”

“No, go!” I interrupted him after a violent heave.

“I can’t leave you like this –”

“Please, I’m sick!” And very naked.

He didn’t go. Instead, he brought the hair that had splayed across my face back behind my ears. I heaved some more and cried out, “Please go. I’m naked, Ben, please.”

“So am I. Nothing to hide here.”

Fuck, he really wasn’t going to go away. And I just had to peek at him to learn that he was, indeed, naked. My goodness, even in my sick state I had to admire this body. Under the light, every muscle was all the more pronounced, making me glad I hadn’t conjured up last night’s version of him in the dark.

He settled down behind me, his heat against my back. His hand moved up and down my spine as I cried into the toilet like a child. To boot, he was comforting me, like I was made of fucking glass and on the verge of shattering. I didn’t deserve to be comforted, and yet I was torn because I didn’t want him to stop.

After several minutes of this unbearable humiliation, I flushed the toilet and wiped my mouth with a wad of toilet paper.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked me.

No. “Yeah.”

“Was it something you ate? Because I don’t remember tasting alcohol on your tongue when I kissed you.” God, only he could make that sound erotic.

“I don’t drink anymore,” I stated vacantly.

It was only after a while of tense quiet that I realized I hadn’t answered his question.

“Must have been the food,” I mumbled.

“Hmm. And you’re feeling better now?”

“Yeah.” The feeling of sickness eased away significantly.

“A nice hot shower might help you some more.”

He let go of my hair and stood up. Opening the shower stall door, he turned the water on. He adjusted the water with a hand under it until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he turned to me and offered his hand.

I took it and he pulled me up swiftly. He grabbed the toilet paper from my other hand and tossed it into the toilet.

“Alright,” he said, motioning to the stall, “in we go.”

I stepped in and waited for him to follow, but he stood by the bathroom door and peered out questionably.

“Is there anyone else in this house at the moment?” he asked. “I didn’t hear anyone coming in during the night.”

“No,” I answered. “My mom’s in Melbourne.”

He nodded and shut the door. He stepped into the shower and I moved back to make room for him. He looked so casual about this, moving under the spray to soak himself. It was like one of those commercials: main focal point his drenched upper body, water cascading down the face in slow motion, him shaking his head and running his hands through his hair.

I fucked that, I smiled to myself. Yep, and I was proud. I’d high five myself if it didn’t make me look creepy. I’d just have to reserve it for Emily.

“The shampoos are all… girly,” I said as he grabbed one off the rack.

He smirked at me. “As much as I want to smell like Cherry Blossom, this is for you, not me. So turn around.”

“You’re going to wash my hair?”

“No, I’m going to wash that plump little ass with Cherry Blossom shampoo.”

He chuckled and I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, turning my back to him. He wrapped an arm just under my breasts and pulled me closer to him. My breath hitched and my core clenched when I felt his mouth lightly licking a path down my shoulder.

“It’s like touching a metal rod,” he muttered in my ear. “Loosen up a bit, beauty. No need to be shy now.”

Easy for him to say. This was yet another first with a man.

I stood still as he ran his hands through my hair. He soaked it thoroughly before he squeezed the shampoo into the long strands. He handed me my toothbrush and toothpaste while he massaged my scalp in the most relaxing way.

With my eyes closed, I brushed the nasty taste in my mouth away, welcoming the cool mint on my tongue. There was no better feeling than a clean mouth… except Ben’s hands on your body, of course.

I rinsed the toothbrush and said, “There’s a spare one in the cupboard if you want me to grab it. Just in case you want to brush your teeth too.”

“I have a better idea,” he replied.

After he rinsed my hair, he turned me around and took my finger. I raised a brow at him as last night’s memory of where this finger had been flashed through me. As if reading my mind, the corner of his mouth quirked up. Yeah, we were totally thinking about the same thing.