AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Went to the grocery store.A bitter laugh bubbles up out of me.
Freaking fate, dragging us apart and making things difficult. We were probably browsing food one aisle away from each other and didn’t even realize it. I crumple up the note and toss it before unloading my groceries and making a quick sandwich.
I eat, and Connor still isn’t home. I feel pathetic for waiting around for him all day, so I change, throw on my running shoes, and head out to the park.
For once, my knee doesn’t bother me, so I stretch my run out to nine miles and it feels good when I turn the corner back to the townhouse for my cooldown. I think about my situation with Connor. I think about what I want out of it, or rather, the only way I can possibly survive it. I’ve decided what I’ll say to him, and it feels good to be in control of one thing today.
I’m still breathing hard when I reach the door of the townhouse and find it unlocked.
Connor’s home.
I step inside hesitantly and am greeted by the rich fragrant aroma of a freshly cooked meal. At the door, I toe off my tennis shoes before heading down the front hallway.
In the kitchen, I spot Connor standing on the far side of the island, eating his dinner and watching ESPN. He sees me and reaches over for the remote so he can mute the TV.
Now there’s silence like I’ve never heard before.
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Hungry?” he asks, studying me.
I shake my head and stay where I am.
He cuts off a piece of grilled chicken and takes a bite, gaze on me.
I need a manual for how to deal with the situation we’ve created for ourselves. We’re not really friends, not really lovers. We’ve had the most intimate conversations and yet asking him about his day feels somehow too personal.
“How was your run?”
“Fine,” I say with a nod. “And football?”
“Fine,” he says with a private smile, like he enjoys how uncomfortable I am right now. It gives me the courage to act.
“Connor,” I begin, taking a step into the great room. “I’ve made my decision about us.”
His dark brows quirk with interest. “Oh?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes. I’m prepared to give you a night.”
He sets his fork down and leans on the edge of the island, toward me. “A night?”
“Yes.”
He’s unreadable. Unfazed. I might as well have just given him an account of what the weather is going to be like tomorrow. Slight chance of rain, bring an umbrella.
“A night of what exactly?”
“Anything…I guess. I mean, you know…”
He nods and steps toward the counter behind him so he can lean against it and cross his arms. He has a commanding presence of the room even though I’m technically the one outlining our future together.
His features stay in perfect equilibrium as he replies, “Okay.”
Okay.
“When?” I ask, wanting to get it down on paper.
Finally, he cracks a smile. A cocky display of dominance. “I don’t schedule sex.”
Jesus.
I look around us, alarmed, but we’re home alone. No one is around to hear his dirty words but me.
“So then…what? I just—”
“Wait.”
I scowl. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting. You’re the one who seemed so insistent that I make a decision, so here it is. I’ve made one.”
“Torturous, isn’t it?” he says, his tone sending a shiver down my spine. “Wanting something and knowing you can’t have it?”
His gaze roves pointedly down my body, making his meaning absolutely clear.
I resist the urge to fidget before I respond in a haughty tone, “So that’s it? You’re punishing me?”
“This isn’t punishment, Natalie.” His gaze jerks back up to meet mine. “This is foreplay.”
A zing of excitement catapults through me. I’ve never had a conversation like this with a man. Any man. I’m the good girl, the straight-A student, a law-abiding citizen. My past relationships have taken the course of all vanilla affairs: we meet, go on a few awkward dates, get comfortable enough with each other to remove articles of clothing while turning off the lights, and have sex half-covered by blankets. I’ve never had a man talk to me the way Connor talks to me. I’ve never had a man look at me like he wants to dip me in chocolate and swallow me whole.
I have the sudden urge to run straight for the back door, cross the garden, and lock myself in the guest house, but I won’t. I let him get the upper hand at the lecture on Friday, and I won’t do it again. I stay rooted right where I am when I ask, “So everything is up to you, then? The date? The moment? The act itself?”
My tone is dripping with sarcasm, but he seems more than happy to take it at face value.
