Page 8 of The Turning of the Tables

He smiled as I handed over the four bags I’d been carrying, and electricity rushed through my hand as his fingers brushed mine. I swallowed, wondering if he’d felt the same thing.

“Thanks again for dinner,” I half-mumbled awkwardly.

“Seth,” he said, and I froze in place, the sound of my name on his lips weirdly alluring.

“Yeah?” I managed.

“First, thank you for driving. And for picking me up at the airport.”

I bobbed my head. “Of course.”

“Second—” He paused, those fractured-crystal green-brown-gold eyes studying my face. I felt my neck heating up. “If I’ve misread the situation, I apologize, and I won’t be offended if you say no, but—would you like to stay for a little longer?”

“Okay?” I wasn’t sure why that would necessitate an apology.

He continued to study me, the light from the hotel room lamp glinting off one dangling silver feather earring. “I’m only here for another two weeks, give or take,” he said, his voice steady. “So anything that might… happen would only be temporary. A good time.”

My whole neck was on fire, and I was fairly certain he could see the flush creeping up into my cheeks.

“If you’re interested,” Elliot continued, then flashed that absolutely disarming crooked smile again. “Because I am.”

I nodded, my mouth too dry to actually form words.

The crooked smile widened, evening out. “Ground rules, then.”

“Okay,” I managed, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate. It was honestly a little weird how strangely nervous this was making me. This wouldn’t be my first one-night stand, assuming that’s where this was going. I’d gone through a couple as a way of making myself feel better after I left Devin. To remind myself that I was, in fact, desirable. That men wanted me, even though I’m not a gallivanting twink.

Don’t get me wrong—the whole gallivanting twink thing can be really hot. But it really isn’t me.

So it wasn’t like I hadn’t been picked up by guys in bars and taken back to hotel rooms. I had. Exactly three times. Twice since Devin. Four times if you counted Devin, which I didn’t, because that turned into a long-term thing, even though it had started as a one-off thing.

“Rule one,” Elliot said, and I refocused on the here and now. “It’s cliché, but no kissing.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I liked kissing, but I wasn’t going to argue with somebody else’s boundaries. I was curious why, but his tone made it seem like something he wasn’t interested in talking about.

“Two,” Elliot continued, his eyes still holding mine captive. “This isn’t about feelings or emotions or romance. This is about sex.” He grinned at me. “Hopefully fun sex.”

I nodded again. That was a pretty fundamental rule for one-night stands. That’s why they wereone-night, after all.

“Three, this can last as long as I’m here. But then it’s over. There isn’t anus.”

Another nod. So maybe more than one night, but alongthe same lines. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, anyway, I reminded myself. Especially not a long-distance relationship with a guy who wasn’t interested in relationships.

“Any rules you want to put down?” he asked, then.

I swallowed. “I—uh. I’m not really into BDSM?” It wasn’t that I wouldn’t ever consider it, mind you, but I felt like that sort of thing belonged in a trusting relationship—and this wasn’t going to be that. See Rules Two and Three.

“Fair,” Elliot replied, and although I searched—quickly—for it, I didn’t detect any disappointment in his response. “I’m also going to take anything involving shit or piss off the table.”

“Definitely off the table,” I agreed. “Nowhere evennearthe table.”

One side of his lips quirked up again. “Glad we agree.” He stepped forward, those calloused fingers reaching up to rest on the top button of my shirt. “Anything else?” he asked, as he undid the little white button. I stared, fascinated by the contrast between his coppery skin tone, the pale blue of my shirt, and the white of the button.

I shook my head.

“You tested recently?” he asked, moving on to the button below that one.

I swallowed. I had. “Yeah,” I replied. “Last month.” After my last one-night stand, at Noah’s urging, even though I made a practice of always insisting on protection.