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She's pretty.
She's eager.
But she's not interesting. Not anymore.
My thoughts keep falling back to Lacey. She didn't stop me because she wanted fame. She wasn't looking for my attention.
She wasn't trying to impress me.
She was willing to put herself on the line for her work.
Even if it meant losing a job she loves.
That's the kind of person I want directing our video.
And the way her eyes filled up with need, the way she groaned against my chest—
She's the kind of woman I want in my bed.
The buzz of my cell breaks my concentration. It's an ETA from Natalie.
It comes with a picture of her thong-clad ass.
Natalie is undeniably attractive.
But this picture isn't making me feel shit.
It's time to end this.
I'm not going to be an asshole and do it over text.
Natalie's eyes light up as she pushes the lobby door open.
It's not I need him inside me, now.
It's not I need him tying me to my bed, now.
It's not a sexual glance.
"You're a sight for sore eyes." Her lips press together. Her cheeks flush.
It's subtle. Almost imperceptible. But the only thing I know about Natalie is how to read her body.
The way she's looking at me—
That's not fuck, light on the buddy.
That's not a buddy look at all.
She used to be the cold one. She'd ask me to leave the second the condom hit the trashcan.
It never hurt my feelings.
Sex is the only kind of intimacy I've ever wanted with a woman.
The fewer pretenses, the better.
"Come in." Her voice wavers as she pulls the door open.
