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“Fuck. This is why I hate voice mail.” Bancroft rubs the space between his eyes as if this conversation is giving him a headache. “I didn’t set up a date with Brittany. This was my mother’s attempt at matchmaking again. I have no interest in dating Brittany. The only reason I went to dinner at all tonight was so I could find out where you were from Amalie. When I said things were moving faster than I expected it wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing. I was flustered at being sent to London again.”
“Oh.” This is a lot different than what I expected. “But you didn’t call me once while you were gone.”
“I left my phone on the plane and I hadn’t backed up my iCloud so I didn’t have your number anymore. I messaged you on social media hoping you would respond, but I got nothing back. Do you have any idea how confused I was when I came home to find you’d moved out?”
I suppose deleting the private messages he sent without reading them was a bit hasty on my part. He must read the guilt in my expression. Based on his loud sigh.
“I knew we needed to talk about things, and I probably should’ve said something long before I did, but then I had to go back to London and I had no choice but to wait. I honestly didn’t intend to get you naked so soon after I came back, but then the club happened and I didn’t have the restraint necessary to wait.”
I raise my hand to stop him. “You planned to sleep with me?”
He takes a step closer until my open palm rests against his chest. “Planned sounds devious and calculated.”
I don’t move away, but I lift my chin so I can see his face. “Were you being devious and calculated?”
Bancroft shrugs. “It was a good thing I was out of the country at the beginning. That first night you stayed in my condo, before I left, I had a very difficult time not making a bad decision that would have felt, very, very good. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear in my intentions and that it took this long for me to express them. I would like to be forgiven. Do you think that’s possible?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt, but the messages and the money . . .” I swallow hard as he covers my hand with his. It’s difficult not to get caught up in the feel of him so close to me. “I’m actually glad we didn’t make bad decisions before you left.”
He cocks his head, his gaze questioning.
“If I’d slept with you before you left it would’ve complicated things. I would’ve felt as if I were being bought.”
He picks up my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. “Which is how I made you feel when I left last week.”
“I’ve been dependent on my father’s support for a lot of years. His money always came with a price, and I didn’t want that to happen again. Even without the misunderstanding I would’ve had to move out.”
“But I like having you with me.” The fingers of his free hand trail down the side of my neck. It’s rather distracting.
“I can’t, Bane. Because it’s yours. Because I need to stand on my own first. I can’t live with you if we’re dating.”
“You already were.”
“It was different when I was your pet sitter turned roommate. Everything changes with sex and a label.”
“You can at least come back to the condo until your new place is ready.”
“It’s ready next week and all my things are here.”
Bancroft’s face falls.
“We can have sleepovers. I can stay at your place a few nights this week and when I have my place you can stay with me.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No. But I need time to be responsible for my own well-being. I’d like to attempt to be successful at it before I merge my life with someone else’s. Let’s give ourselves some time to date like regular people do.”
“I guess we can do that. If we have to.” He’s pretty much pouting.
I laugh. “I think it would be a bit more logical than me moving back in with you.”
“How long do you have the apartment? Not a year?” The furrow is back.
“Only two months.”
“How much is it costing you?”
“It’s affordable.”
His fingers trail up and down the back of my arm. “Okay. So in two months you can move back into the condo, and if I have to go away you’ll stay and take care of Francesca and Tiny? And we can have a minimum of three sleepovers a week while we’re doing this dating thing.”
“You sound like you’re negotiating a business arrangement.”
“I’m negotiating your girlfriend status and regular sex.” Now his hand is on my waist, moving around to my lower back.
“Regular, mind-blowing sex,” I correct.
“It really is that fucking amazing, isn’t it?” His palm curves around my right butt cheek.
“It is,” I breathe.
“We should do it again. Right now. Especially since we’re dating and all.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
It takes all of a half a second before Bancroft’s mouth is on mine. The kiss is explosive. I fight to unbutton his suit jacket and loosen his tie while his tongue strokes my mouth.
Getting me naked is a matter of pulling my tank over my head and yanking my shorts down my legs. Bancroft runs his hands from my ankles, up the outside of my legs all the way to my ribs, then cups my breasts and goes in for another kiss.
“You don’t think Amalie will come back here tonight?” he asks.
“Not likely. It’s the weekend—she’ll stay at Armstrong’s tonight, especially if she knows you’re here.”
“Excellent. That’s what I hoped.”
I continue popping buttons as I lead Bancroft to the bedroom. I hesitate for a second when I push open the door. It’s not my bed. The sheets are fresh, though. I changed them this morning.
“Maybe we should have sex on the floor.” I unclasp the buckle on his belt.
“You don’t think her bed can handle me fucking you?” And there it is, that dirty mouth I’ve been missing.
“I don’t really know.” It’s a metal frame, all pretty and delicate. Bancroft’s bed is made of solid wood. It’s reinforced like a bunker. He can fuck me straight through the mattress if he wants and the frame will stay firmly intact. I’m not sure Amie’s bed is the same, although I was more concerned about having sex on the surface my best friend typically sleeps on.
“Let’s see how much it can take.” Bancroft turns me around, picks me up by the waist, and drops me on the bed. I lean back on my elbows, watching intently as he undresses. I wish I had music playing, something sexy to make into a striptease.
He’s gorgeous, with or without a soundtrack. His pants slide down his legs leaving him in boxers, his hard-on visible through the red fabric. The dim lighting casts shadows on the outline. I bite my lip and hum my appreciation.
He tugs at the waistband and lets it snap back. “See something you like?”
“I like the entire package, but the one inside those shorts wins all the awards.”
He pulls the right side down, then the left, lower and lower until the head peeks out. I sigh when he’s fully unveiled. Bancroft gives himself a slow stroke and I push up, thinking I might like to be the one who does that, but he puts a hand up to stop me. “I’ll come to you.”
