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My head whips up at his words. Start? What is he going to start with?
“In case I haven’t made it perfectly obvious, I want you, Suzie. And not only to warm my bed at night. Although you and me in bed is fucking fantastic.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I want a relationship and I think you want one, too.”
I open my mouth to respond but let’s face it, I have no idea what I’m going to say.
“I can be patient. I know I can wear you down. But why waste the time? I think I proved my point last night.” He winks.
“What do you mean? You proved your point last night? Was last night about proving a point?” My voice may sound slightly hysterical. I need a man who plays games like I need another fermentation bucket. Oh wait. I could use another fermentation bucket. Never mind.
He clears his throat. “No. I didn’t set out to prove a point. I can’t resist touching you when you’re near. But how you melt when I touch you proves my point. We are explosive together.”
“Sex a relationship does not make.”
He takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “No, sex is not enough. But we’re friends. Friends and smoking hot sex does equal a relationship.”
Ugh! I hate when he’s right. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship.”
“Like I explained before, I’m ready to try again.”
This is all my fault. Why did I have to fix him? Damn me and my awesome ability to help people. I should have let him wallow in his guilt about his best friend’s death. Oh boy. Bitchy Suzie has arrived. I tell her to get lost before looking over at him.
“I don’t know.”
He tugs on my hand until I’m close enough for him to grasp my hips. He maneuvers me until I’m forced to straddle him or fall off the sofa. Forced. Yeah, right.
“Much better.”
I roll my eyes. Typical man.
He smooths his hands up and down my sides. “Talk it out.”
“You can’t seriously want me to talk about my ex-boyfriend with you.”
He smirks. “Where are you sitting?”
Did he hit his head? “In my living room.”
“No.” He squeezes my hips. “Where are you sitting at this moment?”
“On your lap.” Where is he going with this absurd line of questioning?
“Exactly.” He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. “You are currently in my arms, not your asshat ex’s. Now, lay it on me. What’s your excuse this week for not wanting to be together?”
“This week?” I bristle. “You act like I’m making up excuses.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
I try to stand, but he holds me tight. I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes on him. “I am not making up excuses! I don’t want a relationship.”
“Okay. Let me ask you this. How would you feel if I hooked up with one of the single women at the wedding tonight?”
I will kick her ass. How dare some woman move in on my man? My man? Well, shit. My head falls forward and hits his shoulder. “What if this all blows up in our faces?”
He grasps my chin and lifts my head. “What if it doesn’t? No.” He shushes me when I try to speak. “Don’t start listing all of the reasons this won’t work. Think about how glorious it will be when it does work.”
“You sound awful sure of yourself.”
“I’m not saying I’m ready to move in and get down on my knee to propose, but I am sure you are worth taking a risk for.”
