His head tilts up so he can look me in the eyes. “With a man?”
Not gonna lie, the sharp jealousy in his voice makes me clench with pleasure.
I cock my head. “That’s not very bi-friendly of you. I might have a girlfriend. Ever thought of that? Maybe if we get tired of having multiple, earth-shattering orgasms, I’ll pop by tonight just so I can show off this pathetic, desperate puppy-man I keep around for laughs.”
“Don’t,” he says, but the want in his voice betrays him.
I grin. “Pull yourself together.”
I press a chaste kiss to the top of his head. It’s a simple, but clear signal.Our session is over.
I push him away and he sits back on his heels. I rise to my feet, stepping around him, and readjust. I fix my dress back over my hips. Heat thrums through my veins, my heartbeat pounding, slowly returning to normal.
“Dove.” I glance up. Dove—not boss. Small delineations to acknowledge that we’ve both exited the scene. Dorian stands in front of me, his pants slung loosely over his hips.
Even I have to admit, he’s kind of hot like this. If you’re into grumpy tall men with tight, trim bodies and a V-line that outlines his hips. He tugs his fingers through his messy hair, attempting to pull himself together. Some people pull off thejust fuckedlook. He does one better; he has acompletely fucked uplook—charmingly disheveled, short of breath, eyes that wander around with a confusedwhere am I? what year is it? what’s my name?expression.
He is so cute when he’s sex-stupid.
He pulls himself together enough to close the distance between us and holds up a small box wrapped in red and black paper. “Merry Christmas.”
I take it gingerly, like it might grow teeth and snap at me at any moment. “You got me a present?”
He retracts his hands, shoving them back in his pockets. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a little something.”
The gift is meticulously wrapped, the edges perfectly flattened against the thin rectangle, the ribbon in a perfect knot. I slid off the ribbon, gracelessly tear off the paper, and pop open the box.
There’s a beanie sitting inside. It might seem silly to everyone else, but beanies aremy thing. I’ve always got one on. So, truthfully, it’s actually a kind of thoughtful gift.
I’m touched, despite myself.
I turn the hat over. It’s a grey beanie with a pigeon patch stitched on the front of it.
He explains: “I was going to get you a hat with a dove on it, but they were all carrying olive branches and I thought,peace and harmonydoesn’t really suit you.”
“So you thought,rat with wings? Street vermin?”
A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “If the beak fits.”
Dorian is a brat. And if we were still in the scene, his big mouth would be getting him into a world of trouble right now.
But, since we’re no longer in the scene, I allow myself to grin at his cheekiness.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” His eyes flicker over me. He frowns. He touches my hip and rubs his thumb over the dark stain he left. “Leave your dress. I’ll have it cleaned.”
“Alright.” In one, swift move, I yank my dress over my head and drop it to the floor. He blinks. His eyes drift over my body, now only in panties, a bra, and a beanie. The muscle in his jaw flexes as he admires the body he’ll never touch. Never fuck.
That’s the arrangement we have. Still, I enjoy basking in it every now and then.
A woman shouldn’t have this much power. It’s liable to give her all sorts of mean, no-good ideas.
I take my coat off the back of his chair and pull it over my shoulders. I tie it off at my waist. “Call me a cab.”
His gaze darkens. “Absolutely not.”
I tilt my head. “Excuse me?”
