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“Yes, I am.”
“I don’t know whether to feel hurt or used.” He didn’t sound hurt, more like astonished.
But still she nodded. This bit was non-negotiable. Ty Sullivan was going to be a hard habit to break. Thanks entirely to his phenomenal cock, she added hastily.
“Actually, you should feel flattered.” She spread her fingers on his chest and ran her hands over his shoulders. Sinking her fingernails into the curls at his nape, she noted the compelling twists of gold in the deep green of his irises, and inhaled the delicious scent of soap and man. “These rules are for your benefit as well as mine.” She pointed out. “I have an addictive personality. And I could become seriously addicted to sex with you.” That much was certainly true. “Neither of us wants to get distracted by this for more than a long weekend, though. So cold turkey is the only way to go once it’s over. If that doesn’t work for you, say so. And I’ll leave now.”
She waited for his reply, convincing herself that the only reason Bugs had begun to punch her throat like a heavyweight champ was because she really didn’t want to miss out on all the hot, recreational sex they still had in their immediate future.
*
Ty looked into Zelda’s upturned face, trying to halt the flames licking up his torso from melting the last of his remaining brain cells. He was pretty sure he’d never met a woman who said exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it—without an ounce of hesitation or prevarication. And on one level that was extremely hot, because he knew for damn sure he’d never met another woman he wanted as much.
And on a purely practical level, he didn’t have a problem with Zelda’s rules.
They made total sense. While he didn’t have an addictive personality, he could imagine himself getting addicted to Zelda. And as she was the opposite of his Miss Right, a weekend booty call was the only way to go.
But even so, he hesitated. Disturbed by that hollow sensation under his breastbone again. Why did he get the feeling there was a whole host of stuff she wasn’t telling him? And what the hell was wrong with hugging after sex? Or letting Faith know about their hookup? It wasn’t as if his little sister would care? Was Zelda ashamed of him?
He dismissed the knee-jerk reaction—a layover from his time at Columbia, when he’d walked around with a chip on his shoulder because he was the first person in his family to make it to college. Zelda wasn’t a snob, he’d already established that much. So if she wasn’t ashamed of him, what was she so scared of?
He shook off the thought. Why was he overthinking this? A Labor Day hookup was what they both wanted. So there was no point overcomplicating stuff, or worrying about Zelda and her motives? She didn’t need to be rescued. Especially not by him.
It was just the attorney in him, always trying to calculate all the angles, be the devil’s advocate. He gazed at her, the flush of arousal riding high on those awesome cheekbones as she waited for his answ
er. The ache in his shorts became painful.
Fuck it, if there was ever a time to take something at face value, this had to be it. No need to question the rules, if he was happy to follow them. And there was no rule against them getting to know each other better during the next three days.
Enough soul-searching.
Closing his hands over her hips, he tugged her into his embrace.
“I’ll agree to your rules on one condition,” he murmured, sinking his face into her neck and licking from her collarbone all the way up to her earlobe, the hollow feeling burned away by the rush of lust as she moaned.
“What condition?”
“We can stop talking about what we’re going to do to each other and actually start doing it.”
She laughed, the smoky purr making him imagine all the wicked things he wanted to do to her. His dick shot to full attention and strangled in his shorts.
“But you’re so good at talking.” She teased.
Drawing back, he yanked the bedroom door closed, so no one walking past the barge would see them. If he wasn’t careful, she was liable to get him a citation for disorderly conduct.
“True, but right now my mind is on other stuff.”
“Other stuff? That doesn’t sound very articulate for a qualified attorney.”
Anticipation made his throat dry up to parchment as he backed her toward the bed and then whipped her T-shirt over her head.
She crossed her arms over her naked breasts, but the bold, flirtatious look on her face made a mockery of the modest gesture.
“Was that a grunt I heard, counselor?” she said. “My goodness, you’re becoming less articulate by the second.”
He gave her a soft shove, toppling her onto the bed. Her breasts bounced, the large, cherry red nipples begging to be sucked. Climbing on top of her, he stretched her arms above her head, so she couldn’t hide herself from him again.
“You want articulate?” He licked around one thrusting peak, smiling when she bucked off the bed. “You’re gonna have to hire some other lawyer. Because this one is now officially off the clock.”
