He told me to say when, but I can’t. Not with Andrés. It’s so hard to say anything when he’s trailing feather soft kisses down my neck, or when his touch sends hot currents of lust rippling across my skin.

Then there’s the way he smiles and offers soft words of encouragement when I’m creating art, almost like he believes I have talent.

He’s not like any guy I’ve ever met. Not like my ex-fiancée. Not like my father. He’s got me thinking that maybe we can have something more. More than just lust, degradation, and abuse.

And now I’m scared, because that means I’ll have to trust him with more than just my body, but with my heart, too.

Christina Duval