Just One Orgasm!

Emilia didn’t move.

She looked at him for a long moment before tilting her head ever so slightly.

"Why?" She asked softly.

Adrian’s eyes met hers for a brief moment before drifting past her shoulder, and toward his bedroom. Then toward the walls.

Emilia followed his gaze instinctively.

The large framed photographs still caught the light from the bedside lamps. Black-and-white portraits with extreme intimate moments captured through an artist’s lens.

Every singke framed photograph was raw.

His jaw tightened. "I just can’t"

That was all he said, and nothing more. Not even an attempt to elaborate.

For a second, Emilia simply stared at him. A strange understanding slowly settled across her face although she was still confused.

"Oh."

The single syllable came out almost as a whisper. She nodded quietly.

Without another word, she took a step backwards. She understood that whatever stood between them had nothing to do with her.

It belonged to him.

"I understand." Her smile was small, and gentle. "I won’t make you uncomfortable."

The words landed harder than she intended.

Adrian’s fingers curled at his sides.

He hadn’t meant that. Not even close. It wasn’t discomfort, or regret. It was fear.

Fear that she would wake up surrounded by those photographs and begin to wonder if she had mistaken him for someone else.

Fear that she’d see a version of him tonight he hadn’t yet found the courage to explain. An apology climbed into his throat, and it stopped there.

He’d spent years learning how to negotiate billion-dollar contracts, command boardrooms full of executives, and speak in front of thousands of people without missing a beat.

Yet somehow, two simple words refused to leave his mouth.

Instead, he nodded.

"If you need anything..." His voice sounded quieter than usual. "...I’m just downstairs."

Emilia nodded again. "I know."

Neither of them moved. None seemed willing to be the first to leave.

Finally, Adrian turned. He walked out of the room without looking back.

A second later, the bedroom door clicked shut. The sound echoed through the silence. Emilia remained exactly where she was, and her eyes stayed on the closed door for several seconds.

Then she let out the smallest sigh.

"You really do make everything harder than it has to be."

She wasn’t sure whether she was talking about him, or herself.

...

Morning arrived slowly.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across unfamiliar grey walls and polished wooden floors.

Emilia stirred beneath the impossibly soft duvet. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was.

She felt as if she was floating, and her whole body felt impossibly limp from rest.

She yawned lightly, rolled over, and then she sat upright. The place felt unfamiliar. She rubbed her head slowly, and then, she remembered where she was at.

Adrian’s penthouse.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes before glancing toward the clock on the bedside table.

Just after eight. She swallowed in relief. At least, she’d get back to school before her two pm class.

She slipped out of bed, quietly pulling one of the oversized T-shirts Adrian had left folded neatly on the bed over her sleep shorts.

The shirt smelled faintly of cedarwood and fresh linen.

She smiled to herself. "My first crime."

Muttering under her breath, she picked up her toothbrush, and padded barefoot into the bathroom. She freshened up, and then she moved into the hallway.

As she moved out, she tied her dark hair into a losed ponytail.

The apartment was remarkably quiet.

She paused.

"Adrian?" She called, and there was no answer.

Her throat felt dry. She needed water. That was all she wanted. She followed the wide hallway, letting curiosity guide her through the unfamiliar space.

Everything looked even more beautiful in daylight.

The morning sun poured through walls of glass, turning the oak floors golden, and the city stretched endlessly beyond the windows, waking beneath a pale blue sky.

It didn’t feel like an apartment.

It felt suspended above the rest of the world.

She rounded another corner, then stopped abruptly.

A woman’s laughter floated through the air.

"No."

Another voice answered.

Adrian’s.

His voice sounded so low, and relaxed, followed by something she’d heard only a handful of times.

He laughed.

Not politely, or the restrained chuckle he gave her when she teased him.

He gave a real warm unforced laugh. It caught her completely off guard. She slowed her steps.

"You still can’t cook," the woman teased.

"I never claimed I could."

"You still burn toast."

She heard another laugh.

Emilia reached the kitchen entrance. She stepped inside.

The kitchen was flooded with morning light.

Adrian stood barefoot beside the marble island, shirtless, with a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

A mug of coffee rested in one hand while the other leaned comfortably against the countertop.

His hair was still slightly messy from sleep.

He looked comfortable, at home, and relaxed.

Across from him stood a young woman in an oversized sweatshirt, with her hair tied into a loose ponytail as she flipped pancakes in a pan with effortless familiarity.

She turned at the sound of footsteps.

Their eyes met, and the spatula froze in midair.

Emilia blinked. "Rowan?"

The colour drained from Rowan’s face. She frowned slightly. "Emilia?"

Silence swallowed the kitchen.

Adrian looked from Rowan, to Emilia. Then back again.

Neither of them spoke.

Emilia’s eyes moved slowly from Rowan, to Adrian. Then back again.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

For one suspended moment, her mind refused to make sense of what she was seeing.

Rowan, her roommate. In Adrian’s kitchen, making breakfast like she’d done it a hundred times before.

She looked at Adrian again.

He wasn’t surprised Rowan was there.

He looked... familiar and comfortable with her. The same ease she’d admired only seconds ago now twisted painfully in her chest.

Her stomach dropped.

A dozen explanations flashed through her mind, and none of them were kind.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

She took a slow step backward, then another.

Disbelief settled over her features as she gave the smallest shake of her head.

"Wow."

It was barely above a whisper. Before either of them could say another word, she turned and hurried out of the kitchen.

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