I’d wanted to feel pain. I’d wanted to feel dirty. I’d wanted to feel bad.

And JC refused to let me.

It scared me. Because the only thing worse than feeling nothing was feeling good. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve pleasure while my baby brother was hurting so bad.

JC must have seen the fear in my expression. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, echoing the words Norma had said to me earlier. “I’m going to make you feel good, and it’s going to be okay.”

Call it the magic power of the cock, but I actually believed him. I set my hands down on the counter next to me, curling my fingers around the edge.

JC recognized my act of surrender. “Good.” His praise was a balm. Confidently, without any trepidation, he resumed rubbing my clit. Expertly. With perfect pressure.

My belly tightened and I felt my orgasm begin to rise inside.

JC picked up his thrusting then, pounding into me with sharp jabs that were less frenzied than before but were deeper, more intense.

“I want to make you feel amazing, Gwen.” His thumb continued its play with my nub, and I edged closer and closer to the brink. “I want you to feel so good. Let yourself go, Gwen. Come with me. We’ll go together.”

I did then. I don’t know if I intended to or if I simply got caught up in the poetry of his words. But I let myself go.

The minute I did, my orgasm took over, crashing through me with violence. My whole body shook with tremors that shot down my spine, down my limbs. Tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes. I cried out so loud, I had to muffle myself in JC’s shoulder.

But the best part was the release. Not the physical part but the emotional part. The spiritual part. I felt like I was soaring. Or skydiving. Or, rather, I felt like what I imagined skydiving would feel like—thrilling and wonderful and free.

He joined me while I was still quivering. His fingers clawed into my waist as he shoved hard and long with a restrained groan.

Then we were still except for the rise and fall of our chests and his cock still twitching in me.

It took a few seconds for the rush to subside and the “after” to hit full force. Only I didn’t quite know what to do with this after. I’d had sex just for sex’s sake before, but not ever with a stranger. Also, never initiated by me and certainly never anywhere on the premises of my work. I didn’t know how to behave.

I also didn’t know how to feel. The soaring sensation had settled and now I felt much more like I was falling. And I wasn’t sure if it was a comforting falling, like the way you fall asleep, or a horrific falling, like the kind in nightmares. I’d wanted to feel but not like this. So even though I felt good, I felt shitty about feeling that way, which almost had me where I’d wanted to be originally, but not quite.

Also, now that the kissing and fucking were over, I had a feeling that JC would want to talk.

Well, not if I could help it.

I was the first to push away. I nudged him, and not even gently, until he got the hint and stepped back. I’d jumped off the counter and had retrieved my panties before he said, “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“It wasn’t planned.” I stepped into my underwear and pulled them up, not caring that I was sticky, just wanting to get the “after” over with. Then I walked over to the small mirror above the sink and tried to do something to fix my hair. God, I hadn’t even realized he’d had his hands tangled in it. When had that happened?

“Gwen,” JC called behind me, but I didn’t turn. I didn’t meet his eyes in the reflection. “Hey, Gwen. Stop.”

His tone was insistent, and I wasn’t so much of a bitch that I could ignore him longer. I turned my head toward him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jesus, I hated that question. I looked back at the mirror and returned an errant lock of hair to the correct side of my part and then turned around to find JC staring at me intently. Obviously my answer hadn’t been enough for him. But I didn’t have more, so I asked, “Are you okay?”

It came out harsher than I’d wanted it to. I didn’t apologize.

JC, as always, ignored my bitchiness and smiled. “I’m great. Fantastic, actually.” Then he frowned. “But I’m worried about you.”

“I said I’m fine.” I brushed past him to grab his jacket off the floor. I didn’t know why I did—there was plenty of room to go around him. I didn’t even need to get it for him. But it gave me something to do besides look in his eyes, and it gave me an excuse to touch him again, even if it was just in a rough pass-by.

I turned back and handed the jacket out to him. He was still looking at me, his gaze intense, his expression concerned. I had to give him something.

“I’m sorry.” It even sounded like I meant it. Which I did. A little.

He gestured between us. “About this? Don’t be.” He took the jacket from me and then gently grabbed me with his other hand. He traced a soft circle on the skin inside my wrist. “Please don’t be sorry, Gwen. This was nice. Don’t ruin it for yourself in the aftermath.”

I felt myself caving. I didn’t even know what I was caving to, but the walls I’d built years ago seemed to tremble and sway. I thought I might cry. Or laugh. Or maybe kiss JC again but not like before. Sweet this time. Slow.

Or maybe I wanted to slap him. Or slap myself. Or maybe I just didn’t know what I wanted, and for that brief moment, if JC was willing to tell me what it was, I was willing to let him be right.

I opened my mouth to say whatever I needed to say to make that happen when I heard my name being called from outside the kitchen.

JC stiffened, mirroring the tension I suddenly felt.

“Stay there,” I whispered. I crossed to the door, and after making sure JC wasn’t in the sight line, opened it slightly. “Yeah, Matt. I’m in here. Do you need me?”

He was behind the bar filling up his sports bottle with Coca-Cola. “Wanted to tell you everything’s done.” As he waited for his drink to fill, he ran a hand over his bald head, something he did often. “I got everything locked up. The staff’s all gone. Just need your signatures on the paperwork and we can take off.”

Even though he probably wouldn’t fire me for getting it on in the kitchen with a customer, it didn’t seem like something Matt should know. And if he knew I was with JC, I was sure he’d know we were getting it on.

I had to divert his attention. Forcing a smile, I said, “Okay. I’ll be right up to the office. I’m sweeping up some ice I dropped.” I shut the door and turned to JC, who was still peering at me with apprehension. “If you go out the front, the alarm will sound. The back door is there, on the other side of the kitchen.”