“You’re sick.”
“Probably, but listen to me, okay? I told him no. I told him I wouldn’t do it.”
She lifts her coffee and takes a sip. Her hands tremble. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I briefly tell her about my meeting with Finn. “In the end, I turned him down. I thought that was over. Then you showed up on my doorstep.”
Her eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say?”
“I thought it was over. I told myself it wasn’t happening, so what did it matter if we slept together one more time? Besides, your piece of shit ex-boyfriend is still a problem, and I figured keeping you close would be good for everyone. I could keep an eye on you.”
“Why the hell would you need to do that?”
“Because the Baranovs are serious people, love.” I soften my tone and try to get her to understand how I’m not joking around right now. That’s not easy for me. Doesn’t come natural, but I try anyway. “And you could be in their crosshairs for all I know.”
“What’s that have to do with you…sleepingwith me… and our… arrangement?” She chokes the words out like she’s fighting herself.
“I wasn’t going to do it, but then I realized something. It was when you left that morning. Hit me like a kick in the teeth, and trust me, I know how that feels.”
“Good.”
“It struck me, you were going to marry someone else. If it wasn’t going to be me, it was going to be another random fucking guy from the clan. Do you know how many assholes work for the Whelans?”
“I’m aware of at least one.”
“It’s a lot, love, and most of them…” I trail off, trying to find a reasonable way of making her understand. “They don’t have realistic ideas about gender relationships.”
She laughs at that, head tipping back. There’s a hysterical note to her and I try to ignore it. “Are you trying to tell me you’re doing this tosave me? Liam, that’s the stupidest shit you’ve ever said.”
I bite back my temper. It flares and I have to look away to steady myself. Luckily, Hal returns with my soup. She places it down, letting some sploosh onto the seat between my legs. She doesn’t even apologize as she storms off.
I clean it up and eat some.
Regan watches, nose wrinkled. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t actually spit in it. Want a bite?”
“No thanks, I’m good.” She drinks more coffee and checks the time. “I’m out of here in four minutes. You were telling me how you’re some kind of progressive ally of women’s rights?”
God damn it, this girl isn’t going to give me an inch. I let out a breath and fix her with a hard look. “I won’t beat you. I won’t shout at you. I won’t insult you or expect anything of you. Hell, I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for a damn thing except for common courtesy. Beyond that, we can make this work. You do your thing, I do mine. That’s the best deal you’ll get from this, and I have a feeling you know it.”
She shuffles uncomfortably and turns her face toward the wall, and I keep thinking, how long can I uphold this deal? How long before I’m in her room, touching her, kissing her, or at least lying in my bed dreaming about how good it feels to sink deep between her legs?
I make it a point to be honest.
But am I fucking lying to both of us right now?
“What do I get out of all this?” she says almost to herself. She rubs her face and meets my eyes. “You know what? Never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“This conversation. Pretend like it never happened.”
“Wait a second.” She slips out of the booth. I reach for her, but she steps out of the way. I don’t know where I went wrong, how I fucked this up, but a part of me wonders if she can see through my bullshit. If she knows I’m twisting myself into knots trying to act like I really can stop myself from touching her all the damn time.
“Promise me something.” She pauses a few feet away. The room’s empty except for her. My eyes travel down her legs, over her hips, and up to her hair, the way it cascades down her shoulders. I remember the feeling of it, silky in my fist.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
