“I’m on the pill… and I was just tested last month too. If that suffices, then we’re good.”
“It does.” My eyes dropped down to her mouth and I added, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Working… all week, actually. I need to make up lost time. I’m free Saturday.”
Five fucking days away. I’d be able to drive nails by then, but still, I’d take it. Bringing my lips a hair’s breadth from hers, I confirmed, “Saturday it is then. My place at three. I’ll cook.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth and back up again. “We’re having dinner at three?”
“No… we’re having each other at three.” I mimicked her but lingered a bit on her full lips before meeting her ice-blue eyes straight on. “Dinner will come much later.”
I hadn’t heard from Nate since I paid him a visit at his office on Monday, not that I expected to. I meant what I said, that going to him was safer. That morning I had argued with myself for hours—to go, not to go, to call. But after Jade gave it to me straight, I decided to indulge in Nate Navarro, provided I did so in moderation, on my terms, with a modicum of control.
I wasn’t an idiot in believing any of that to be true, especially after he’d managed to turn me into a wanton mess by the time I had stepped foot in the elevator. Seeing him face-to-face wasn’t the problem either. Being holed up in my apartment while writing, clear across town from him, hadn’t lessened my ache. Way too many times this past week my mind drifted to memories of us, and that led to my body craving more of his touch. So much so, if he had called and insisted that we see each other, I most definitely would’ve asked, Your place or mine?
Modicum of control, my ass.
The man had infiltrated not only my thoughts, but also my life. He was everywhere. From those damn roses on the coffee table to the lingering scent of his cologne, which smelled like rain, or what I would imagine walking beneath a waterfall on a spring day would smell like. Shit, I couldn’t even look at my kitchen island without vividly remembering his head between my legs.
Despite the distractions, I managed to surpass my word count goal and then some. The more I wrote, the more his claim of being an inspiration pecked at my subconscious. At one point, I actually began arguing with his sexy, smoky, dripping-with-intent voice, which bragged repeatedly in my head.
You know I’m responsible for getting your creative juices flowing, Jersey. Admit it.
No, you’re not. I’ve written plenty before you came along and will write plenty more once you’re gone. It was just sex… ordinary sex. It was nothing special, Mr. Navarro. Don’t flatter yourself.
Type. Type. Type.
Ordinary, my ass. We both know it was very special. My mouth was made to consume your pussy; my cock fits your body like a screw fits a bolt. Are you wet remembering it? Are you squirming?
No, I am not!
Type. Type. Type.
You’re a shit liar, Jersey.
So what if I was a liar? So what if by merely imagining his dialogue I was wet and squirming? So what if it was the best sex I’ve ever had, or that he made me feel beautiful and worshipped during it? None of that had anything to do with my writer’s block dislodging, or as Janis said, getting unstuck. Nope, it was pure coincidence that had me extremely productive this week. Nothing more than that.
Three hours until I see him, until he puts that sexy mouth of his to good use and—
The police siren blaring outside my window caused a jolt. I fingered the black-lace garments staring up at me from where they lay on my bed, and those little white price tags hanging off their sides mocked me.
Who are you kidding, Amy? You bought them yesterday for his eyes… tear us off!
But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. One day I’m buying lingerie for him, getting a manicure, pedicure, waxing… what was next? Those were the kinds of things a woman in a relationship did.
We weren’t in a relationship.
We were in an arrangement.
But the little voice in my head quickly argued, Sending red roses isn’t exactly arrangement behavior either.
My little voice was right. At times, things that he did seemed to be a contradiction to the anti-relationship ruthless shark Janis claimed he was—ensuring I got home safely, sending flowers, or even cooking me breakfast. It was all part of his game, and I needed to keep reminding myself of that.
Turning away from the bra and thong, I yanked open the dresser’s top drawer, searching for an unremarkable set that I already owned, only to slam it shut with a sigh.
Use us to your advantage in his game, the bra and thong cried out in unison.
“Fine,” I barked, and before I knew it, my fingers moved on their own accord to snap the plastic ties dangling from those barcoded slips of paper. And that was exactly what I needed to do, go into every damn encounter with Mr. Navarro on the defense, ready to play my own game.
My cell buzzed from where it sat on my dresser, sending my heartbeat into a frantic rhythm. That would be just like him to call now, when I had a few hours to relax… to shower and moisturize every part of me that his lips would touch before heading to his apartment.
But it was Jade’s face on the screen when I picked up the phone.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
“I know you have your thing with Nate, but I need you to watch Michael for me.”
The lilt in her voice made it obvious it wasn’t an emergency, which caused me to ask, “Jade, are you maimed? Have you hit your head and are now in the ICU? Or maybe you’re just trying to kill me?” She of all people knew how hard up I was all week, all because of her enabling. She also knew any opportunity for logic to kick in could derail my confidence.
“I’m really sorry, Aim. Max and I have that health benefit upstate today, and my sister’s kids both came down with a fever. My parents are traveling, and Max’s parents have plans. Please? We’ll make it up to you. And you can see him tomorrow.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose while suppressing a sexually frustrated groan. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“Thank you! Can you come by in an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
When she hung up, I snatched up the bra and thong, ceremoniously dumped them into my drawer, and set out to take a cold shower.
Nate hadn’t answered when I called, so I left a message explaining the situation and had yet to hear back from him. Meanwhile, I dressed in my most comfortable sweats, threw my hair in a ponytail, and headed out to Max and Jade’s place.
After being granted access, Jade flung open the door and hugged me tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Max came to stand beside his wife. “Yes, thanks, Aim. We really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Noting the quiet apartment, I looked around and asked, “Where is the munchkin?”
“He just went down for his nap, so you’re good for a few hours.” She zipped up a sweatshirt with a frown. “I’m not looking forward to a day of outdoor activities in a muddy, drenched park.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.”
“It’s fun,” Max argued.
“Says the masochist,” I quipped. Being a gym owner who liked to give back had him constantly signing them up to participate in all sorts of charitable marathons or triathlons or whatever punished a human body in ways I couldn’t comprehend.