I feel like I might love you…or something.

That was the thought in my mind, which I knew was completely crazy.

“What, Eden? What?”

My voice cracked. “You’re the only man in the world I want to want me.”

“I do want you…so much.” He ran his fingers through his hair, then pulled on it in frustration. “But I don’t want to watch you fuck yourself with a dildo—do you get that? I’ve always been afraid you’d think that’s what I want. You’re so conditioned to believe that’s what men want from you—this one-sided show. I want you—all of you, in the flesh. But I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn’t push it unless you voluntarily chose to tell me who you are and where you live.” He laughed angrily. “You think I don’t fucking want you? Why do you think I only let you see me from the waist up?”

I responded with the first thing that came to mind. “I assumed it was because you had a tiny dick.”

He burst out laughing. “Wiseass.”

“Kidding. I hope you know that.”

“I’m always hard for you, Eden. Always.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I’m turning into a jealous prick, too.”

“Jealous? I thought I was the jealous one.”

“Seriously. Do you have any idea how hard it is to know you go into those private chat rooms every night? It’s your job, and I respect that, but I honestly can’t even think about it anymore. There have been times when I’ve considered sending you so much money that you’d never have to work again, but I know you wouldn’t take it, because that’s the kind of person you are. I can’t tell you what to do.”

It hurt me to know my job made him so uneasy. “I never realized the camming bothered you like that.”

“Fuck yes, it bothers me. I can’t stomach you spreading your legs, showing other men your pussy up close while they jerk off. It makes me want to throw up.”

My heart started to race—not only from the shock of hearing him admit that, but because knowing my work made him jealous was invigorating. I’d yearned for his jealousy, to know he cared about me in a possessive way.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“Would it change anything? You should be able to do whatever you want to do with your life. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. But I’m man enough to accept it.”

“But your feelings do matter to me. If something bothers you, I want to know.”

“Okay…it bothers me that I can’t see you in person. How about that?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Good one.”

We both fell silent. This was probably the closest we’d come to an argument.

After a while, he gestured with his index finger. “Come here.”

“Where?”

“Come closer,” he whispered. “Press your lips against the screen.”

I did as he said and watched as he moved his own face against the camera. He groaned as he kissed me once gently—or pretended to.

Ryder smiled. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

It wasn’t real, but it felt important to me. “Did we just have our first kiss?”

“I’ve got the smudge marks on the screen to prove it.”

I licked my lips as if it were real. “It’s not enough.”

“It won’t ever feel like enough, Eden.”

“Then let’s do more tonight,” I said.

“I meant the whole virtual thing. This will never be enough.”

“I know. But I want to do more with you tonight. You’re the first man in a long time whom I’ve wanted to do things for—not just for you, but for me.”

He looked at me so intensely. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“When you’re…performing, do you get wet? I mean, do you get genuinely excited when you know someone is getting off to your body, or do you fake it?”

“It’s funny you ask that; I’ve actually been studying that very thing.”

“Studying it? Is there still space in the class? Because I’d like to sign up.”

That made me laugh. “What I mean is—okay, there’s a difference between true arousal—enjoyment—versus activation. Sexual non-concordance is the term. It’s when your body responds to a sexual cue, even if you’re not truly liking it. It’s a physiological reaction not based on enjoyment but rather on the idea of something sexual happening. It’s a very detached way of getting aroused.”

“So you’re saying that because you’re thinking about sex, from the mere act of, say, masturbating—even if you’re not into it—your body might still react. But there’s no actual desire.”

“Exactly. It’s just a primal, almost automatic reaction. So there’s a difference between that and what I feel when I look at you, which is true attraction, true arousal.”

“What does it feel like when you look at me?” he asked.

How can I even describe it?

“All of my nerve endings are on alert. I’m so incredibly aware of every movement you make, every expression. It’s a mixture of excitement and comfort, because I trust you.”