It wasn't a sex thing. Not for her, anyway.
"No. You're the one who wanted to see the real me." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This is it. This is the playboy swing. Every girl who lasts more than a month gets a ride."
He sighed, as if she'd ruined a magic trick. He pressed the remote again. The swing slowed, then stopped. She sat there, swaying gently, feet still off the floor, heart hammering. playboy swing
Mia laughed, a practiced, musical sound. "You know I'm not a 'kitten.'"
He didn't. He was watching her with that collector's gaze, cataloging her reactions. "You're fine. I've got you." It wasn't a sex thing
She swung forward, the chains whispering. The city lights blurred. For a moment, it was just motion—pure, childish joy. She laughed for real this time.
She left without looking back.
Her stomach lurched. "Leo. Stop."