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Maybe it can be different. Maybe if we stick to the rules we can do this sex thing the right way, the way we expected it to be that first night.
I can do this. I can focus on only the physical part of what he’s offering. I can keep my heart locked away behind bars and so many layers that I’ll be able to choke out all the feelings I started to have for him.
When the red flags start to pop up, I’ll bolt. It’ll be over.
Why, as he moves me across the dance floor, I ignore the fact that he dropped me for a week before being right back in front of me, I’ll never understand. Maybe if I had listened to that screaming voice then, I could’ve actually kept my heart from really getting broken.
Instead, I let him pull me close, and I get lost in the way his chest rumbles against me as he hums the words to the song, his expert feet moving me across the room and back again.
We dance until my feet scream at me to take a break. When he heads to the bar for a couple bottles of water, I make my escape to the restroom.
The night didn’t start perfectly, but there’s a real chance it can end that way. I rush through splashing some water on my face, wondering just how much of the redness in my cheeks is from the overheated dance floor and how much of it is because of Chase.
I give myself a pep talk as I stare at my reflection.
This is sex and only sex.
Orgasms do not equal love.
You can have one without the other.
I have to do this. It’s imperative to be emotionless, to be capable of having sex with him and ignoring that voice that whispers, telling me it means more.
I nod at my reflection, startled to look up and find another woman looking at me.
“You just made your mind up about something you were struggling with,” she says, a slow smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “Good for you.”
I leave the bathroom without looking back, but the second the bar comes into view, I’m left wishing I’d stayed in there longer, or even better, that I never came to the Hairy Frog to begin with.
Chase is at the bar, a beautiful woman grinning up at him. Her hand is on his forearm in that way women do when they feel the need to just touch someone. It can be flirty or an offering of support. Chase doesn’t need help with anything, so it has to be the former that has her reaching out to him.
After the pep talk I just mentally gave myself, I should be able to see him and not be bothered. Maybe it’s because the seals on that cage I’ve tried wrapping my heart in just haven’t dried yet, because the sight of the two of them standing there, her slim body in a slinky little dress I could never pull off, makes me want to cry.
I swallow down the burn and take the long way around the room to the front door. I’ll have to figure out how to get home once I can take in a full breath of air. I could go stand by Adalynn’s car until Cash makes his rounds. She’ll be ready to leave by then.
“Madison!”
I shake my head, my feet continuing to carry me toward the front door.
His warm arm catches me before I get there.
“Trying to sneak out without me?” he asks, lining his body up against my back. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight, you’re mine.”
There has to be a flag above the red ones, one that indicates the need to grow wings to get away faster. The fact that this man can go from flirting with one woman to walking away and catching another would definitely qualify.
If someone asks me why I ignored this one, I know the explanation that he wrapped his warm palm around me until it was resting on my lower belly before leading me out of the bar probably won’t cut it, but that’s exactly what happens.
Chapter 27
Chase
Staying away from her all week has been an exercise in futility, a battle I lost tonight the second I saw her in the bar. I know I need to shore up the walls of indifference I spent the last seven days creating, but there’s just something about the woman in a damned sundress that I can’t seem to resist.
The way I approached her tonight was purposeful. It was an exact reflection of what happened that first night, a promise to stick with the original rules we made. I want her to know that I am done crossing the lines we drew. I’m not going to abuse what she has offered me. It’s strictly sex, and if I manage to keep from opening my mouth and saying things I shouldn’t, then she’ll never know the difference.
She doesn’t need to know about the hours I’ve spent wide awake in my bed because she’s in the same house but untouchable. She doesn’t have to know that I’ve broken the rules, that I let myself feel things for her.
I realize my misstep in this genius plan a little too late.
