His shoulders slump forward. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I’m…” he clears his throat, “sorry.” From the uncomfortable expression on his face, I’m assuming they’re words he doesn’t say often.
“Why did you?” I ask.
“I had my reasons.”
I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out why he is such a closed book. Getting anything from him is like walking up a slippery slide wearing only socks. You make it a couple of steps, then slide back down, only to have to start again. The result? Nothing but frustration.
“Anything you want to share?” I ask in the hopes that he may open up.
When I think he’s not going to respond, I say goodbye and make to leave again. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’m not going to force it.
“It was because of you.” His words make me freeze.
I slowly turn. “Because ofme? What didIdo?”
He drops his head. “Even though you agreed to a one-time thing, I worried you might’ve wanted more.”
My forehead creases with confusion. “What made you assume I wanted more? I never said otherwise.” Did my actions give anything away? When I told him I didn’t want a relationship, I meant it. A terrible knot twists in my chest, like it’s trying to tell me I’m lying. That I’ve been lying about my feelings for Kade from the start.
“You didn’t need to say anything. It was just a feeling I got.”
“A feeling? That’s it? We had sex, Kade. I didn’t profess my undying love for you. If you got any kind offeelingfrom that night, maybe it was your own.”
An expression of horror flashes across his face. At that, my heart sinks to my stomach. Without realizing it, I was holding onto some hope that maybe there was a little more than sex that night.
“I’ll admit, I had fun, but I didn’t tie any feelings to us having sex.” His words hit a little too hard because the more we stand here talking about that night, the more I have to wonder if what I said—not wanting anything from him—is a lie. Do I have feelings for him that go beyond anything physical? My heart flutters against my ribs. No… no… no. He’s the wrong man to fall for, but the right man to have fun with. The man is gorgeous. It’s lust. That has to be all. I’m feeling this way because he’s the most excitement I’ve ever had. No one has awakened my body the way he has. I’m confusing lust for feelings.
“Okay, then, we’re on the same page. We had fun with no feelings.” I stop myself from giving him a thumbs up.
“Good,” he says.
“Good,” I repeat.
“As long as it’s only ‘fun’, what if we do it again?” he suggests.
I cock an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t have sex with the same woman more than once?”
“I think we’ve already passed my rule multiple times. Once more won’t hurt.”
Maybe not for him. For me? It might tip me over the edge of trying to keep my heart out of it. But when he looks at me, like he’s mentally stripping me naked, how do I refuse? I want as much of him as I can get for as long as I can get. Because soon it’ll be over, and I’ll be back to my normal life, where men like Kade don’t exist.
twenty-seven
CHAINS
Whatwasmeanttobe one more night has turned into every night for a week. Every day when Daisy comes to visit Natasha, I tell her to let herself into my apartment and wait in my bed for me to come home from the club. And she stays until the next morning. Damn it, I’m getting used to the feel of her body curled up against mine, the smell of her apple shampoo, and the little breathing noises she makes when she sleeps. Waking up with her in my arms is the best part of my day. Not once have I left the bed, so she’s woken up alone. Not once have I wanted to leave her at all.
All I want is Daisy.
And that’s what fucking scares me.
When I’d approached the woman at the bar in Vegas, I knew I couldn’t go through with fucking her. As soon as she placed her hand on my arm, I recoiled. There was only one woman I wanted touching me. What if that never changes? Then what will I do?
It’s more than liking the feel of her in my arms. I like Daisy. From the moment I met her, I knew there was somethingdifferent about her. Something that piqued my interest like no woman has ever come close to before. I like the way she doesn’t take me too seriously. Doesn’t put up with my shit. How she makes me laugh like no one can.
Today Daisy’s come to visit before work and we’ve ended up in bed. She tilts her head up and reaches her hand so her fingers trace along my forehead. “Why such a deep frown?”
I take her hand in mine, place a kiss on her wrist, and lay her palm on my chest just above my heart. “I have to go to work, but I’m too comfortable to move,” I say instead of what I was really thinking. If I say it out loud, it becomes real. And I’m not ready—or ever will be for things to change.
