While I’m cursing myself ten times over for getting aroused again, she continues watching me, waiting to hear what sort of crap I’ll come up with.
“This,” I gesture between us, “was just sex. You know that, right?”
“Did I ask you to marry me?” The corners of her lips slightly turn upward with clear amusement.
Suddenly, I’m hot. She said themword. My back starts sweating, and my palms turn clammy. I discreetly wipe them on my pants.
“Relax.” She laughs, obviously enjoying my discomfort. “I was joking. It was sex.” She jumps off the table and shrugs. “Good sex, by the way. Besides, I’m never getting married, so you’re off the hook.”
That’s what I wanted, right? For her to be okay with that? But why don’t I like the sound of her confirmation, making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal to her. I’m running for the damn hills, for fuck’s sake, and she just fixed her skirt, dismissing me like a cheap booty call?
“Yeah, about that.” I chew the inside of my cheek, thinking about how I should go about that. “I’m so—”
She lifts her finger in the air, her narrowed eyes throwing blazing daggers at me. “If you’re going to say you’re sorry, I swear, I’m going to punch you in the nuts.” Her eyes dip to my thigh. “They’re big enough to be easy targets.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion as I attempt to figure out if that was meant as a compliment because one never really knows with Josie. “Why?” I ask, giving up.
“You and I are both adults. I like it rough. You like it rough.” At her words, lead settles in the pit of my stomach. “We had fun. Move on, Sheriff. I have.”
I carefully watch her, looking for any indication that she might be lying, but find none. She really liked it. Actually, I’m pretty sure she loved it. But she dismissed me so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to fully buckle my belt before she had apparently already moved on. Isn’t that the best-case scenario for me and the sole reason I drive to Portland sometimes?
So I simply nod and move toward the exit, feeling like I’ve just been discarded like a used condom.
My forehead breaks into a sweat.
A condom.
I pause, thinking about if I should go back and discuss it. But when I glance back and find her wiping the table we just fucked on, I press my lips together and head toward the door before I weep like a pussy.
But then Josie, being the grown-ass woman she is, stops me with her words. “I’m clean, in case you’re wondering.”
I stop and turn to face her.
“And I’m on the pill.”
I swallow, “I am too.”
She quirks her brow, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“I mean, I’m clean too,” I add, suddenly feeling like an idiot.
“Then we’re square.” She snaps her fingers, dismissing me.
What the fuck? How do I react to that? Something swells in my chest, and I’m unsure if I should go back and show her to never dismiss me like that or walk out the door and not turn back.
If I was the better man, I’d choose the first. But I give her a short nod, turn around, and grab the knob.
When I’m in my car, I bang my head on the headrest, cursing myself with every word I know. How did I mess up so badly? I just fucked Archie’s designer. He’s my close friend. Maybe even the closest one I have. And yet, the fucker didn’t warn me about her arrival.
Yeah, Josie is from the big city, and they tend to take these things easier than women in small towns. Every time you sleep with someone, they start shopping for a ring. That’s exactly why I have a fuck buddy in Portland with zero expectations, and if I need something new, I go to a bigger city where no one knows me, and I can fuck someone anonymously.
And I need to do that now so I can erase the feeling of her quivering thighs in my hands. How tightly her pussy squeezed my dick. And how she took as much as she gave.
And how much it hurt when she admitted that it was just sex.
Yes, I need a good fuck to prove to myself that it’s not her, it’s just an act. This weekend, I’m going to Portland.
ChapterTwenty-Three
