Letting Go (Letting Go Series #1) Read Online Free PDF

,” he continues. “You need to let all this soak in, to think about everything that happened and to decide how you feel about it. I’m sure you’ll have lots of questions.”
    Damn right I have questions. None that I can put into words right now, but all kinds of half-formed ideas are buzzing around in my head. Letting it all soak in is a very good idea—unless I can somehow blank it all out and pretend it never happened. That might be an even better idea.
    “I think that’s probably wise,” I say. “This was , uh…interesting. I’m not sure I can put my feelings into words right now. It’s a lot to absorb.”
    “Yes , it is. But you’ll do fine, Jennifer. I have faith in you.”
    I’m glad one of us does, I think to myself.
    “Call me this time tomorrow morning,” he says. “We’ll talk about it.”
    I’m not sure I want to talk about it, but I don’t have to decide that right now. I take the easy way out.
    “Yes, Sir,” I say.
    I hear the phone click in my ear. Just like that, he’s gone…without even a goodbye. Suddenly I feel terribly empty.
    I think I’m in trouble.

 
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
    I let my phone drop to my pillow and push myself up off the bed. My legs are still a bit wobbly from the strength of my orgasm. God, that was amazing—like nothing I’ve ever experienced, even with a man inside me. Especially with a man inside me, I remind myself.
    I pace absently around my apartment, letting the strength return to my legs and allowing my brain to clear. So many things I need think about. I try to remember details from the beginning of our call, but they are hidden in the fog of the final part. A smile curves my lips as I recall my orgasm one more time. Even if I never speak to Sir again, it was worth it—well worth it.
    Will I speak to him again? That’s what I need to decide. He’s left the next step up to me. If I don’t call him tomorrow, then it’s over, and everything returns to normal. If I do call him, we move forward. What we’ll be moving forward to, I have no real idea. Like he said, I have a lot to think about.
    I’d better get started.
    I return to the bedroom and sit down at my desk. Of all the places in my home, it’s where I think the best. I leave my computer off, though. I don’t want to be distracted. I don’t even turn any music on.
    Closing my eyes for a moment, I allow my thoughts to drift back to our conversation.
    As I try to replay our talk in my mind, one thing becomes readily apparent. He was always at least one step ahead of me. I remember how often I felt like he was inside my head, knowing what I was thinking, what I was feeling, even what I was doing. He’s obviously incredibly perceptive, more perceptive than anyone I’ve ever known.
    I wonder if he comes by i t naturally, or if he’s had some training. Perhaps he’s a counselor or a therapist of some sort, trained to listen, trained to make inferences. That would explain his uncanny ability at least a little, and how he managed to keep leading me to where I apparently wanted to go. Or maybe there’s a “Dom school” somewhere, where they teach guys like him how to read and manipulate women like me. I’ve never thought of myself as submissive, though, nor would any of my friends or co-workers describe me that way. So I’m not really sure what “women like me” means.
    My musings make me reali ze that I know almost nothing about Sir. I’ve told him a few things about me, but he hasn’t revealed anything about himself. I don’t know what he looks like or how old he is, or even his real name. From his voice, I can tell he’s not eighty or eighteen, but that’s about it. I replay our conversation again, in as much detail as I can recall, but come up with no specifics about him, no clues even. There’s nothing—he’s a ghost. A ghost who seems to be able to glide inside my head at will. That’s a scary thought, for sure—so why do I find it so enticing?
    I’ve gleaned all I can, for