Derek stared at her, taken aback. "Why would I want to do that? Why would you want to do that?" he asked, beginning to wonder if the whole accident and tears had been a ploy to get to him. Evelyn's cheeks burned with shame and a strange defiance. The words had tumbled out before she could think.

"I mean," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, "do you find me attractive?"

He stared at her, his blue eyes narrowed in confusion. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Evelyn wanted to crawl under the seat and disappear. This impulsive act, born of heartbreak, was spiraling out of control.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carefully neutral. "Yes," he conceded, "but I don't understand. Why would you want to have sex with me?"

Evelyn took a deep, shaky breath. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to escape this man, this stranger who had witnessed her breakdown. But her raw vulnerability battled that instinct. There was a strange calmness in the face of the unknown, a temporary escape from the wreckage of her life.

"Look," she began, her voice hollow. "I just realized I've made a terrible mistake—the worst mistake," she hesitated, tears welling up, "and I need to make one more before I snap back to my senses."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would you make another mistake if the first one left you in this state?" he asked, trying to rationalize her words.

"Because by doing this, I might forgive myself. Don't try to understand me. I just want sex. I'm not asking for your love, your money, or even your name. I don't need any of that. All I want is sex."

Derek studied her intently, his expression unreadable. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Then, to her surprise, a slow smile spread across his face—not mocking, but understanding, perhaps even sympathetic.

He shook his head. "No, I can't do that. You're clearly upset. What was the mistake? Perhaps I can help by listening."

Evelyn didn't respond. To his shock, she began to undress, stripping naked before him. Derek watched, confusion warring with desire as she approached, her eyes pleading. "Please, just have sex with me."

He looked away. "I can't. You're hurting, and I don't think this is the solution."

"I don't need a solution. I need a reprieve," she said, rising on her toes, pressing against him, and kissing him.

The moment she kissed him, he responded with equal passion. Before she knew it, he carried her to the bed. Breaking the kiss, he held her gaze. "Are you sure about this?" he asked gently.

Evelyn met his eyes, a new resolve hardening her gaze. She nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice stronger. "I'm sure."

He pinned her against the bed and kissed her passionately, his hands moving to her breasts. Although she'd only wanted sex to help her get over sleeping with—and planning to marry—another man for four years, this stranger's touch aroused her far more than Michael's ever had. She found herself moaning. She pulled off the towel, touched him, and elicited a groan. She closed her eyes as he kissed her breasts, then moved down her body. She gasped as his fingers touched her, and she held the bedsheet, burying her hand in his hair, kissing him fervently, trying to suppress her moans as he pleasured her.

Sensing her restraint, he increased the pace, and she cried out in pleasure. "Please fuck me now," she pleaded, wanting him inside her.

"I will, sweetheart, but only after you cum for me," he said. She climaxed. While she was still recovering, he positioned himself and thrust into her, sending her into another orgasm. She cried out, wanting him to stop and wanting him to continue, moving rhythmically with his thrusts.

That night, Evelyn, who had always thought herself frigid, discovered that sex could be wonderful. She spent the rest of the night with the stranger, rediscovering herself and unlearning the lies Michael had made her believe.