—We need to talk.

That's the third time I've heard that phrase in the last few hours. But I have simply been distracted. He has distracted me. With his sophisticated techniques and sexual skills in bed. And out of it.

—I know. —I tell him as I lie against his body in the huge bathtub.

His hands caress my body slowly, distracting me. His head rests on my right shoulder. I move against his body as he bites my earlobe.

—Don't think for a second that you're going to cajole me again and avoid the pending conversation. —he says to me as I laugh.

—I'm not doing anything. —I answer him innocently as I lean against his body.

—We'll just have sex again, after we talk.

—Your body doesn't think so. —I can feel his erection digging into my lower back.

—I don't give a shit what my body thinks right now. Apparently it's impossible for him to get enough of you.

—And that's a bad thing?

—Not at all. But we need to talk about what happened.

I know this conversation was going to come at some point. And that sooner or later, we would have to talk about everything that has happened.

—I don't think I can do that stuck in here with you, naked, while you're caressing me.

—Well, let's get dressed and talk. We both have many things to clarify and explain. —he says to me as he gets up and gets out of the tub.

I see him take a towel and start drying himself. His body is a heart attack. Defined and muscular everywhere you look. I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing him. He turns to me and captures my gaze admiring his body.

—Don't delay. —he wraps his towel around his waist and walks out into the bedroom.

I don't think I can continue to avoid the pending conversation. Even if I wanted to. I also wish he would forget everything and not continue to insist. But I know that's not going to happen. I get out of the tub and tangle my body in a towel before leaving the room. I see a T-shirt and boxers on the bed.

Without thinking twice, I put on the clothes he left me and go out to look for him. The apartment is huge. I don't know why anyone would need so much space. But I'm not going to ask either. I find him in the kitchen, with a glass of wine in his hand. He is turning his back on me. He's not wearing a shirt, just some sexy sweatpants. And like me, he's barefoot. He turns to me as if warning of my presence.

—Sit down, I'll be right with you.

Without hesitation, I sit down on the couch and pull my legs up across in the couch. I feel his steps walking in my direction. He sits on the other end of the sofa and offers me a glass of wine. I think I'm going to need something stronger than this for the conversation that awaits me, but I accept it just the same. I take a drink from my glass under his watchful eye and stare at his body. This conversation is going to be a little more difficult with him sitting in front of me semi-naked. We exchange a look. Does he know what his body is doing to me? He certainly do. And his intention is precisely to make me even more nervous.

—Where do we start? —I ask him, filling me with courage.

—For what happened in the club.

—Ah. —I don't know why I had the feeling that he would want to start there.

—You told me you hadn't had sex since Friday, Ana, but I saw you. I saw you making out with the stranger on the dancefloor. I saw you leave with him.

Then the whole time he was watching me. Hiding in the shadows. He never showed up, never showed his face. Now I'm a little upset.

—What else do you know? —I don't know why I feel that he knows more than he is telling me.

—I know you went with him to his apartment and left after two hours.

—Did you follow me? —I ask him, not believing what I'm hearing.

—I couldn't help it, I needed to know.

—Well, it didn't help you much. Nothing happened. —I tell him as I take another long drink from my glass. —I didn't sleep with him.

—Why did it take you so long in his apartment?

—Because we were talking. —I tell him as I smile, remembering what happened. —As it turned out, it all ended up in a psychotherapy session instead of sex.

—He was a psychologist?

—Yes, and he gave me good advice. —I tell him by looking up from my glass and looking him in the eyes.

—Why didn't you tell me?

—Because you behaved like an idiot in class and didn't let me explain.

—And you gave me what I deserved. —he says with a smile.

—I'm sorry. —I tell him remembering that I hit him hard in the leg and jaw.

—Why couldn't you sleep with him?

This is the question I didn't want to come up with. I didn't know how to answer him. It was quite simple really. But first I had to finish the strange arrangement we had made.

—Before I answer you, I need to ask you something.

—You will say.

—No more lessons.

He stares at me with an eyebrow.

—You don't want to know yourself anymore?

—On Saturday I realized something. —I pause while he doesn't look away from me. —That I know myself well enough to know what I want.

—And what do you want?

—You. No conditions, no lessons, no rules, no contracts.

Christian leaves his glass on the little table in front of the sofa and this time he sits down next to me.

—What changed? —he asks, pulling a lock of hair from my face.

—Everything changed on Saturday when I realized that my feelings for you were much deeper than I wanted to accept.

—Do you have feelings for me? —he asks as he lifts one hand to my cheek.

I close my eyes at the touch of his warm hand on my skin. And I feel his other hand on my thigh, moving dangerously up my skin that quickly begins to react to his touch. I open my eyes and as I lose myself in his gaze I decide to confess my feelings to him.

—I am in love with you. —I admit in a whisper while he only smiles at me.

—It took you a long time to realize it.

—It took me a long time? Christian, we've only known each other for two weeks. I still haven't managed to process the intensity of my feelings for you. And what I have managed to process, scares me.

—What are you afraid of?

—A lot of things. —I answer vaguely.

—Explain yourself.

—Never in my life have I felt such a deep desire for anyone. No man has ever made me feel the way you do. I have never felt this anxiety and this deep, desperate desire to be with someone as if my life depended on it. And worst of all, deep down inside, I'm scared that I'm not enough for you.

He brings both hands up to my cheeks.

—Don't underestimate yourself Ana. You are a beautiful, intelligent, sexy and daring woman. The men who passed through your life were idiots, who failed to appreciate the passion and sensuality inside you.

I almost feel the tears accumulating in my eyes at the sincerity of their words.

—Are you serious? —I can't believe anything I'm hearing.

—Very serious.

—How did you know how I felt about you? —how he you realize my feelings for him when I didn't.

—Because of the way you look at me. —he says to me as he lowers his hands from my cheeks. —By the way your breathing speeds up and how your body reacts to my caresses. —he says as he slowly slides his fingers down my arms.

—I knew that my reactions to your presence and the contact of your skin with mine were not normal. But it is impossible to have feelings for a person I barely know. —I confess terrified.

—It is not impossible, Ana. —his hands go down to take mine. —The same thing happens to me. From the moment you first stepped into my apartment, I couldn't believe it. That day we met, I was exhausted and I know I didn't make the best impression on you. But I felt the connection between us as soon as I shook your hand. You don't know the superhuman effort I had to make when I had you wet in my shower. And then when you tempted me with your body on the floor of yours.

—Why didn't you take me then?

—It's kind of hard to explain. —he kisses my hands before releasing them.

—You told me that you were afraid that you would lose control and hurt me. What did you mean by that?

—It's something I don't like to talk about.

I won't dwell on it then. At least not today.

—I'm curious about something. —I ask him as he looks at me squinting. —You've always planned all our sexual encounters, haven't you?

—Carefully planned. —he says to me, bringing a finger to my lips and sliding it around.

Instantly I feel the tingle going through my lips and I start to get excited.

—Did you plan what happened in the kitchen? —I ask in a trembling voice.

—Believe it or not, I didn't have that assault planned. —he says, moving his finger away from my lips. —Neither did the other. I had this conversation in mind first. And then to take you to dinner and go buy condoms. Believe it or not, I don't have any here in the apartment.

—Is this apartment yours? —with everything that happened I forgot the most important thing.

—Yes.

—Why did you live in the other one then?

—It was closer to my physical therapy and after I bought this one, I asked for some reforms to be done.

—Some reforms? I can see it perfectly.

—It used to have four bedrooms.

—What did you need four bedrooms?

—Exactly. I asked them to join two of the bedrooms and make the gym. They finished it a month ago.

—Why hadn't you moved in?

—I was planning to sell it, I didn't think I needed such a big apartment just for myself.

—You're not selling it anymore?

—No. I have other plans in mind.

—Other plans?

—Enough talk. Are you hungry? —he asks as he gets up.

He takes the empty glass out of my hand as he walks to the kitchen. I don't miss any of his movements. I turn around, kneel on the couch and lay my arms across the back.

I watch him open the refrigerator and take out various things he is putting on the counter.

—Are you enjoying the view? —he asks with his back to me.

—Very much so. —I answer with a smile.

After putting all the things on the counter, he leans on it with both hands. He stares at the counter, and looks thoughtful. He slides his hands across the counter and smiles. I wish I knew what was going through his mind at that moment.

I get up from the couch and walk over to him.

—Is something going on? —I ask him, putting one hand on his shoulder.

—I don't think I can cook here anymore. —he says, looking up.

For a moment his gaze is lost in mine, but he smiles at me, in a way that makes my whole body begin to react to his presence.

He takes my arm and corners me between him and the counter. He brings his lips close to my neck, sniffs my scent and deposits his lips there while slowly descending to my shoulder.

—All I see is you lying on the countertop, open to me. —he says to me in a gasp of pleasure as his lips and tongue slide on my skin.

—And that distracts you? —I ask with accelerated breathing.

—You have no idea.

His hands grab me by the waist and I quickly see myself sitting on the counter, opening my legs, as his lips now move towards mine. He fits between my legs, still clinging to my waist, and kisses me very slowly, as if I were a delicate object that could break. I wrap my hands around his neck and caress the base of his hair. His short hair tickles my fingertips. I like this new and strange feeling. And I enjoy it every second. I don't know when he will let me touch him again like this. He tends to have me always at his mercy, never letting me do with him what I want. And for him to let me caress him right now, without him taking control, or asking me to do so, is the best thing that has happened to me since I met him. There have been few occasions when he has let me caress him.

—Mmmm, we need to make some dinner. —he says to me, gasping for air as he pauses in the kiss.

—No, we don't need it. —I tell him as I pull his face toward mine and take control of the kiss.

Christian kisses me back without resistance.

—Ana! —he whispers against my lips. —This can get out of control. —he says to me as I feel him holding his hands tighter around my waist.

—That's what I want, for you to lose control, to let yourself be carried away by your most primitive desires. That you kiss me like the first time. And that you take me with the same intensity with which you hit the bag. —I hold it by the cheeks. —I'm not afraid Christian, I want you to show me who you really are, what you really like.

I can see the desire in his eyes. But I can also see that he are thinking about it. He are sincerely thinking about my words.

—If I hurt you, I need you to tell me, Ana. I need you to stop me if this starts to get out of control at any point.

—I will. —I tell him firmly.

—Well, let me have a feast of your body one more time and then I'll prepare dinner. —he says with a smile as he takes my mouth ardently with wild possession.