I raised a shoulder. I was only going to back down if he proved me wrong.
“Guess you’re right about that. I’m the best bad decision you’ll ever make, Fiona. And that’s a promise.”
It wasn’t the arrogance in his tone that convinced me he wasn’t boasting. It was that leisurely, panther-like posture. The confident way he took up space and moved his body. Every word he spoke was deliberate and intentional.
“Do you ever stay more than one night, though?” I asked.
Emotion flickered across his face. But then he cranked up his grin. “Never. Another promise.”
Not this time.
I gave him my most placating smile and hoped my words sounded firm and decisive. “Then I’m definitely not interested. But good luck warming your bed tonight. Though I doubt you’ll need it.”
8
Max
Good luck warming your bed tonight.
Fiona Quinn wasn’t interested in sleeping with me.
Which was totally fine. I didn’t get turned down often, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.
And this probably wasn’t related, but my palms were sweating for, like, the first time ever.
“Your words cut like a knife.” I grabbed my chest, mimed being in pain.
She assessed me with a cool, sexy confidence. Between her blazer-and-diamonds combo and that fucking tiara, Fiona was the bossy good girl I’d never realized I was obsessed with. “I doubt I even bruised that ego of yours.”
I shrugged. Cracked a smile and enjoyed the one she gave in return. “It ain’t ego. I’m just a man that lives for pleasure. Yours in particular.”
Those lovely lips of hers twisted, full of mischief. Fiona Quinn was in on a joke the rest of the world couldn’t hear.
My vague memories of her were of a skinny spitfire who loved to study and took no shit. The gorgeous woman in front of me definitely didn’t take any shit. And had all the makings of a spitfire. Green eyes bright with intelligence, smudged with black eyeliner. High cheekbones, pale skin, and golden blond hair that shone in the streetlights. I couldn’t believe my fucking luck when she’d climbed through that window like a dream.
Because I’d been watching her all night—without realizing it was her. All I could see was a whirling dervish in the middle of the room, a woman singing at the top of her lungs while dressed like she was going to a board meeting. Hot blond with great taste in music was absolutely the type of woman I enjoyed seducing for a night.
“I’m sure you’ll survive to charm again,” she said. “But if I was currently looking for a one-night stand, I’d happily give your work here tonight a strong B- for effort and creativity.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying what I wanted. Because the real work started the second her clothes came off. I’d make her come over and over until she upped that grade to an A+.
I whistled low, beneath my breath. Her expression was playful, flirtatious. “Damn. Be gentle, princess. I got back to the city like five hours ago, and you’re already breakin’ my heart.”
She bit her lip. “Tell me the truth. You don’t like gentle from the women you take home, do you?”
“I like all kinds of women,” I said. “Including women who prefer a man on his knees.”
Even beneath the streetlight, I caught her flushed cheeks, heard her intake of breath. If we had sex, it would be a battle of wills, and I’d love every second. Dominance and submission, challenge and surrender.
“Who is your type? If you don’t mind me asking.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A man who doesn’t fuck me and leave. So thank you for your straightforward honesty about your intentions. It’s appreciated.”
I didn’t like thinking that someone had lied to her.
“I fuck around, but I’m not an asshole,” I said firmly. “I’m a cards-on-the-table guy. Honesty means no hard feelings, right?”
“I think it depends on who you’re being honest with. And what about,” she replied.
“I’ve never thought about it like that,” I said. “Either way, I won’t lie to you.”
Telling the truth was simple for me. It was part of Mom’s way of life. Be upfront with the people you love, and you can’t disappoint them. Why people lied or told half-truths was beyond me. Why make things complicated?
Fiona nudged my leg with her foot. “Okay then, Mr. Tell-No-Lies. You weren’t really watching me dance right?”
My voice dropped. “I was captivated by you from the second you stepped onto that dance floor. You were the only woman I saw all night.” For some reason that truth hurt a bit at the end. And my palms were still sweating.
She looked down at her lap with a sweet smile, suddenly demure. I didn’t get the shyness. She must have men lined up down the block for her. “I’m bumping your grade up to an A-, by the way.” She narrowed her eyes. “Still no fucking, though.”
I laughed, and it seemed to release some of the sexual tension between us. “So tell me about this guy you’re looking for. Some fancy lawyer named Brett, I bet. Has a few boats and a bunch of investments?”
She leaned in with a serious expression. “Wait. Brett sounds perfect for me. You have his number?”
“You’re a real goddamn tease, you know that?” My smile was as happy as hers. All this talking about not having sex was more fun than the last time I had sex.
“Oh, I do,” she said serenely. “But to answer your question seriously, I’m searching for my soul mate. My potential future husband. And to do that, I’m currently in a period of…” Her lips twitched. “Light celibacy.”
“Never heard of it,” I drawled.
She held her upturned palms out. “And that’s why I turned you down.”
That sounded like the end of our conversation to me. Before she could decide to go, I asked her a question I thought about a lot. “You don’t think it would be boring? Being with the same guy forever?”
Her laughter was even prettier than that fucking mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“God, I hope my soul mate isn’t boring.”
“Okay.” I grinned. “Then what’s he like?”
“Career-driven. Wants to put down roots with me here in New York City. And wants to get married, of course.”
I stroked the bottom of my lip with my thumb. “Shit. This isn’t looking good for me.”
She arched her eyebrow, waiting.
I ticked off my fingers. “I’m not interested in climbing any kind of ladder. I’ll never put down roots. And I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Then that settles it,” she said.
I mimed wiping my forehead. “Whew. And your future husband sounds like a real snooze-fest.”
She laughed again. “Shut the fuck up. There’s nothing wrong with lusting after a man in a nice tailored suit with a nice corporate job who believes commitment is still wonderful and romantic.”
“Yeah, but you want to fuck a nice guy forever?”
“Being nice doesn’t mean he fucks nice,” she said, lips pursed.