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Micah
I feellike a total dick for bringing her here. I should have known this place wouldn’t impress her. She’s not like other girls. Material things don’t matter to her. She would have been happier if I’d taken her to a drive through burger joint and we shared a large order of fries on a park bench somewhere.
Which is why it surprises me that she agrees to stay.
Then, agrees to most of my suggestions for her list. A list that’s about to grow because I have a few terms of my own that I want included.
“May I?” I ask, motioning for both the pen and paper she has in her hand. “Eight, nine, and ten belong to me.”
“Eight, nine, and ten?” she asks, sounding confused as she passes both over to me.
“Yes. Eight …” I let my voice trail off as I click the pen open and write out my first demand. Once it’s inked, I read it to her. “No other bedmates.”
“That’s not an issue,” she quickly agrees.
Good. Because I’m not interested in sharing her. Plus, if all goes as planned and I get my three nights a week with her, she will be too worn out to even think about sex the nights we aren’t together.
9. One date a week.
“I can agree to that,” she says, when I show her what I’ve written down. “But be mindful of number two. The girls and I have standing dates three nights a week. And number three. I can’t go out the night before an exam.”
“No problem. Fridays and Saturdays are wide open.” I shoot her a wink but don’t explain what I mean. I’ve been forming a plan in my head all day. If our date starts early in the morning on a Saturday, I can stretch my time with her. All. Day. Long.
“And what’s number ten?” she asks, but the waiter approaches with our food before I can tell her.
This one makes me nervous. I’m not sure she’s going to agree to it, and I would totally understand if she doesn’t, but it’s worth a shot. Hell, she can’t say no if I don’t ask her, right?
“Stay with me one night a week,” I say as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.
Lex’s hand freezes, her fork halfway to her mouth. When her eyes flick up to meet mine, I can see the indecision weighing on her.
“Sleep in my bed. Fall asleep and wake up in my arms.”
I’m begging. Even I can hear it. And I don’t care.
One of my favorite moments from this past weekend was the morning I woke up with her in my arms.
Before we had sex.
Her body cuddled with mine, nestled perfectly against me. I want nothing more than a repeat of that morning. Every day if I could, but I’m willing to start with just one. For now. And when the time feels right, I’ll ask for more from Lex.
I can already see I’m going to need to take it slow with her.
Outside of the bedroom anyway.
She’s a sexual queen between the sheets. Confident and demanding. Not afraid to say what she wants, to tell me what she needs.
Outside of those moments... the idea of me seems to scare her.
Not that I’m not scared as hell, too. This is all new territory with her.
“One night,” she mumbles, more to herself than to me. “I can do that.”
As soon as she agrees, I write the last item on our list, initial the bottom, and hand everything back to her. She initials the bottom as well, making it official, and then asks, “So what are we then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who am I to you? What is this between us? Because I was under the impression this was more of a sex-only relationship this morning before I started making this list, and now …”
