“I…what?” is all I can manage. I’m sure my expression is equally articulate.
“Sex,” she repeats, louder this time, like the problem before was her volume. “I want to have it. With you. Again. For the third time. We already had it twice.” She holds up two fingers. “Now, I’d like to have it thrice. Then maybe some more times after that.” All her fingers are upright now, and she waggles them at me with a mischievous grin.
A weaker man would give in to temptation. A weaker man wouldn’t hesitate to take what she’s offering, no questions asked. And not because any guy would be an idiot to turn down no-strings-attached sex, but because Blondie is a fucking catch. She’s smart, sexy as hell, funnier than she realizes…
And that is exactly why I can’t do this.
“I…don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say carefully, inching back to put some space between us.
Her expression grows stormy. “Tell me you don’t want to fuck me.”
My cock twitches, but I stand firm. “That’s irrelevant.”
“No, it’s not,” she protests, stepping off the stair so we’re on even ground again, and her words are suddenly so clear and sharp that, if it wasn’t for the alcohol smell on her breath, I would wonder if she was just pretending to be drunk before. She takes another step closer. “Let’s be real for a minute—I know what I said about no sex, but in practice, it isn’t working. We’re both horny as shit, and this is a perfect solution to a mutual problem. A workplace perk, if you will.”
My jaw clenches as the arousal I’ve been fighting abruptly dies at her words. Workplace perk? Is she being serious right now? My dick is not a grab-and-go breakfast bar or a dental plan.
For a guy who’s seen more ass than a public toilet, I’m surprisingly scandalized by the idea. Anger bubbles under my skin, and I can feel the flush of heat overtaking me like a bad sunburn until I realize that I’m not just angry, I’mfurious. It pisses me off that she would suggest this, throwing a wrench into what has been, thus far, an otherwise successful arrangement. It makes me absolutely incensed to think that, if I say no, she might get her jollies somewhere else, with some other guy who isn’t me. Above all, I’m positively livid that she would reduce herself to something as unfeeling as being my fuck buddy when she deserves so much more.
It takes me a moment too long to process the thought that just steamrolled through my head. I have no idea where that came from. And what the fuck did I even mean by ‘she deserves so much more’? More what? Surely not?—
My stomach drops. Oh, no. No, no, no. It can’t be.
Fuck.
“I wouldn’t want more if that’s what you’re worried about,” Blondie says in what is easily the most ironic, cruel twist of the evening.
Because I like her. IlikeBlondie. I can see that now. And not in a platonic, fake girlfriend kind of way, but in a I-want-to-kiss-every-inch-of-your-body-until-you-come kind of way.
In a if-I-let-myself-get-close-to-you-like-that-again-I-might-actually-fall-for-you kind of way.
How could I have allowed this to happen? For fuck’s sake, I have actively pushed away every woman I’ve ever slept with, especially since starting at Conwick, to avoid this very outcome, and I sure as shit didn’t go into this fake relationship looking for a real girlfriend. But then, I’ve never let myself get close to someone like I have with Blondie. And despite trying our best to keep things professional (or as professional as a fake relationship can be), I’ve come to know her on a level I’ve never known anyone before. Iknowher…and now, thanks to Ronnie, I can truly see her.
“Are you listening to me?” Blondie asks, and I jerk out of my thoughts, swallowing hard.
My hands curl into fists, as if that will somehow quell the hurricane of emotions thrashing inside me. “You’re drunk,” I whisper, finding it difficult to speak. “You won’t feel this way in the morning.”
WillI? Or is what I’m feeling now just a weird blip? A momentary lapse in sanity?
One glance at those stunning green eyes and I know the answer. If this is a blip, a lapse in sanity, then the last two months have made me completely deranged. Because I don’t just like Blondie, Ireallylike her. How could I not? She’s gorgeous, has a fiery temper, and is smarter than I’ll ever be, genius or not. Shit, I think I’ve liked her for a while now, and I just haven’t had the balls to admit it…or the sense to accept it. Or thecourage. Because liking Blondie means embracing the very real possibility that I might eventually lose her, and that is a reality I’m not ready to face. It’s easier to never have her at all than to open myself back up to that kind of pain.
But explaining that to Blondie would require telling her about my past, and I don’t think I’m ready for that either. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe not ever.
“You honestly think this will just go away overnight? If that’s the case, then why did I kiss you?” she challenges, taking a step into my personal space again. When I don’t respond, she lets out an irritated whine. “Seriously, I only drank as much as I did tonight so I could work up the nerve to?—”
“Ask me to be friends with benefits?” I spit, the words sour on my tongue.
If she was anyone else, I would’ve had no trouble saying yes. Getting laid was never my problem. The feelings behind it were always the impossible part.
And those feelings, however problematic, are exactly why I have to say no. It would be wrong to do otherwise, and not just because she’s drunk, and I’m literally paying her to be around me, but because I’d be taking advantage of a situation she doesn’t even want to be in butneedsto be in to help her mom. Hersickmom.
Sick…just like Jamie was.
Blondie snorts, pulling me out of that unwelcome thought. “I mean, we’re hardly friends, Damian.”
There it is. The real crux of this littlefeelingsdilemma. Blondie might want to fuck me, but she sure as hell doesn’t like me, and honestly, I doubt she ever will. Not after what I’ve done to her. Not after how I treated her…
