“Hey, I know stuff. I minored in social sciences for my undergrad.” She moved her fingers over the small patch of skin between my hair and the collar of my shirt, and I shivered. “You could be right. I might’ve ended up with men who were easy and familiar because I’m lazy. It also could be that those guys—they’re easy. They don’t ask much of me. I don’t have to invest much. I can phone it in, and they’re okay with that.”
“That sounds incredibly boring. And sad.” I eased her just a little closer to me, so that her hips bumped against mine. “Why do you waste your time with that? With them?”
“Probably because they’re also safe. My last long-term boyfriend ... calling him that was a real stretch. We were together because it was convenient. When he graduated and moved to the west coast, I tried to dredge up some real emotion, some sadness, but it just wasn’t there. That’s kind of pathetic, you know?” She ran one hand down my spine to rest on my waist. “That’s why you’re different, Vincent. You matter. Or you could, potentially. That’s why you scare the absolute hell out of me.”
We’d stopped moving, and in the shadows at of the edge of the dance floor, we simply stood, gazing at each other.
“I don’t want to scare you, Amanda.”
“Then whatdoyou want, Vincent?” The question was a mere whisper.
“I think ... I’m probably crazy, because what I want scares the shit out of me, too.” I used my finger to brush one dark strand of hair off her forehead. “I told you, I don’t do girlfriends.”
“I remember.”
“And the idea of trying a relationship is terrifying.”
“It seems like a bad idea, doesn’t it?” Wistful pain tinged her voice.
“The worst.” I nodded. “I’m not like you. Your apartment is twice the size of my place. You’re going into a profession that will probably let you earn three times what I do. You know the governor.”
“And I live in another state, over an hour away from you. You’re here, working at your family’s restaurant. That’s not going to change any time soon.”
I thought about Peter Romano’s card, still in my pocket. “What if it did?”
Her green eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I’m talking in hypotheticals. If I didn’t live ninety miles away, would it change things?”
Amanda exhaled. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Vincent. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
My heart was beating loudly in my own ears. “I told you I didn’t want a girlfriend or a relationship, but maybe that wasn’t exactly ... accurate. I don’t want those things in general. But when I think about it with you, it’s maybe not so bad.”
She gave a short huff of laughter. “Please, Vincent, stop it with the sweet talk. You’ll make me swoon.”
I swallowed and tried again. “What I meant to say was that I never wanted to be in a relationship before, because I never met anyone who made me want that. You do. Or at least you make me brave enough to want to try it.”
Her lips parted slightly. “I do?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I’ll probably suck at it. You might end up hating me. Shit, I don’t even know how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ll warn you now—I don’t do romance. I don’t bring flowers or play your favorite song for you all the time. I’m never going to be the guy who writes you poetry. Also, we might find out that we’re too different, or that we don’t like each other, once we get better acquainted. But I’m still willing to see what happens.”
She closed her eyes. “We already know the sex works. We know we have crazy chemistry.”
I spread my fingers a bit to cover her ass, fitting her a little closer to me. “There’s no denying that. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night—how you felt under me. How you looked when you were on top of me and when you were between my legs with your mouth on my dick. I have dreams about licking you and how your voice sounded when you were about to come all over my tongue.”
By the flush on her cheeks and the way her chest was rising and falling, I knew she was reliving those memories, too. “But this—whatever it is between us, Vincent, if we’re going to make it about more than sex, we have to want the same things. If you only want to fuck me again, then tell me now. If friends with benefits is what you’re looking for from me, say it. Don’t try to sugar-coat this.”
I captured her hand and drew her back into a dark corner, away from the dance floor and the tables. “It’s not just sex. I think I want more than that.” I almost couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of my mouth, but somehow, I meant them. Cupping her cheeks between my hands, I lowered my head and touched her lips with mine. “I’m probably certifiably insane for saying this, but we can take it slow when it comes to sex. We can take our time, hold off until it feels right. Again.”
Amanda tilted her head. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
“More than I want to keep breathing.” I answered her swiftly. “Don’t have any doubts about that. I want to take you back to my place and bang you seven ways to Sunday. I’ve already figured out I could have you there, naked and under me, in about fifteen minutes. But if it’ll convince you that I’m serious about trying something new, I’d be just as happy to drive you to Ocean City and drop you off at your hotel instead.”
“Just as happy?” She laughed softly. “Seriously?”
I amended my statement. “Okay, almost as happy. I’d bealmostas happy to drive you to the hotel and kiss you goodnight before I leave you there. And then go home and beat off to the memory of you riding me hard, your tits swinging in my face ...”
“I understand. I see where you’re going with this.” She toyed with the button on my jacket. “You’re right that we’re probably crazy. I mean, I’m about to launch into my last semester of law school, and then I’ll be buried for months, studying for the bar. We won’t be able to see each other very much. I can’t just take off and come down here every weekend. You can’t drive into the city all the time, either.” She lifted her eyes to me. “But when I think about not trying, I want to curl up in a ball and cry. So maybe that means something.”
