Foreman couldn't help a quick, smug look around the parking lot to see if anyone had noticed the swing of Amber's hips as she--there was no other word for it--sauntered away from him. With a light laugh, Foreman shook his head, still amazed at how well things were going. He could practically still feel the heat of her hand on his chest, his arm, the back of his neck. Damn tease. He might have to fend her off tonight, and he didn't know if he wanted to, or if he'd be strong-willed enough to even if it was the right thing to do.
Being with Amber had helped him bury his anger, sure. Foreman climbed into his car and quickly pulled out of the parking lot. Did that really change what she'd done during Casey Alfonso's case? Did it change the fact that he was disposable, in her eyes? She'd promised not to hurt him, to tell him what she was doing, but it had taken so long to wring that tiny concession from her that Foreman still didn't know if he could trust it. She might blink in startled innocence at him, the next time, and claim that she'd had no idea, again, that what she'd done might hurt him.
Relaxed physically, and tired enough that he needed to spend most of his concentration on the road, Foreman still found his thoughts turning in circles. He believed that Amber didn't want to hurt him. But he was pretty sure he came second in her list of priorities. Could he accept that? Live with it? It seemed he'd promised to do just that, by accepting the minimal apology she'd finally offered. And he was going to her place, accepting her pace and her rules, again.
The time she'd cuffed him to her headboard was nothing, in comparison to this. He'd been out of control, but everything Amber had done had been with the explicit intent of making him feel good. Now he was getting roped in to a whole lot more, tied to an intimacy he didn't know he was ready for, and one that left him guessing more than he'd ever thought he could be comfortable with. And yet--God, just remembering it made a blush burn through Foreman's face. He couldn't touch her. He wasn't allowed to touch her. And he'd still come spectacularly, goaded onwards and left wrung-out and exhausted and all but melted in his own satisfaction.
Nothing was resolved by the time he'd pulled up in front of Amber's building. Foreman took the steps quickly, sparing a glare for the windows set below Amber's, and buzzed to be let in. Whatever tonight held, at least he had some idea that they weren't going to leave their issues hanging. Difficult as it was, they'd found ways to talk. Tonight wouldn't be that; it'd be the two of them, relaxing, slipping back into the comfort they'd found with each other.
no subject
Being with Amber had helped him bury his anger, sure. Foreman climbed into his car and quickly pulled out of the parking lot. Did that really change what she'd done during Casey Alfonso's case? Did it change the fact that he was disposable, in her eyes? She'd promised not to hurt him, to tell him what she was doing, but it had taken so long to wring that tiny concession from her that Foreman still didn't know if he could trust it. She might blink in startled innocence at him, the next time, and claim that she'd had no idea, again, that what she'd done might hurt him.
Relaxed physically, and tired enough that he needed to spend most of his concentration on the road, Foreman still found his thoughts turning in circles. He believed that Amber didn't want to hurt him. But he was pretty sure he came second in her list of priorities. Could he accept that? Live with it? It seemed he'd promised to do just that, by accepting the minimal apology she'd finally offered. And he was going to her place, accepting her pace and her rules, again.
The time she'd cuffed him to her headboard was nothing, in comparison to this. He'd been out of control, but everything Amber had done had been with the explicit intent of making him feel good. Now he was getting roped in to a whole lot more, tied to an intimacy he didn't know he was ready for, and one that left him guessing more than he'd ever thought he could be comfortable with. And yet--God, just remembering it made a blush burn through Foreman's face. He couldn't touch her. He wasn't allowed to touch her. And he'd still come spectacularly, goaded onwards and left wrung-out and exhausted and all but melted in his own satisfaction.
Nothing was resolved by the time he'd pulled up in front of Amber's building. Foreman took the steps quickly, sparing a glare for the windows set below Amber's, and buzzed to be let in. Whatever tonight held, at least he had some idea that they weren't going to leave their issues hanging. Difficult as it was, they'd found ways to talk. Tonight wouldn't be that; it'd be the two of them, relaxing, slipping back into the comfort they'd found with each other.