"No, no. I thought you wanted me to say that I'm amazing," I said breathlessly, mouth open in a look of shocked betrayal when his hands pull away. "When did we get so specific?"

And I realized, with something akin to horror, that the thought of coming up with something nice about myself– even one thing, let alone more, was more of a struggle than I wanted to admit. I could blame it on the arousal, the distraction of his body, but the block was unfortunately a mental one.