“You like poetry?” I’d studied some poetry in college, but I didn’t take him for someone who liked stuff like that.
“Some,” he admitted with a shrug. “I took some courses back in school, poetry and classical mythology.” He looked at me. “And so it was with the god and the virgin: one with hope pursued, the other fled in fear.”
I frowned. “Ovid?” I’d been a mythology buff as a teenager, so I knew about Daphne and Apollo, but I’d never given much thought to the story of the lustful god and the nymph who turned herself into a tree to escape his advances.
“It seems fitting, doesn’t it? Except you’re not a virgin, and I’m not some god in the grip of uncontrollable lust.” His lips curved into a wry grin. “But you might as well have turned yourself into a tree for how creative you are in ensuring that nobody gets past your walls.”
Nobody had ever compared me with my mythological namesake before. “Those walls have always worked for me,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, you know what you want,” he said, his eyes on some faraway spot on the lake. “Whether you’re having casual sex, playing at celibacy, or soul-searching, there’s one constant: you’re alone, just the way you want.”
Alone, just the way I want—except I was no longer sure what I wanted. I knew I wanted him. I wanted him casually, but I also wanted him in more ways than that. I couldn’t explain it, and I didn’t want to face it.
“Funny thing,” he continued, “alone has always worked for me too, but that night, when you told me about your mother and being left alone with no one to call your own—I felt like I never wanted you to be alone again, not when I could be there for you.”
As he said the words, I realized I’d wanted to hear him say something like that to me since the first moment I laid eyes on him, and hearing it now, it felt like a dam had broken inside me. I felt vulnerable and exposed, but I didn’t want to push him away. I didn’t want to walk away. I wanted to let him into every single vulnerable part of me.
It wanted to break down my walls for him.
“But of course, you were right,” he said, laughing self-mockingly. “It was the sex clouding my mind, because there’s no actual reason in the world why I would prefer to be with you in a long-term relationship over zero-commitment, guilt-free sex.
It felt as if someone had splashed cold water on my face. My eyes stung, and I had to blink to keep them dry. “At least we’ve cleared up that you’re still the casual sex and hookups guy. Good thing I didn’t fall for your temporary change of heart.”
“Good thing,” he agreed. “You also got to ditch your celibacy and see it as the ineffective strategy it is for whatever you’re trying to achieve. You can go back to…how did you put it? The one extreme that has always worked for you.” He fixed his gaze on me. “How’s it been? Daphne. How many guys have had the pleasure of fucking you since that night?”
None.
Because I only want you.
“None of your business,” I retorted, getting up and walking to the edge of the patio.
I felt like I never wanted you to be alone again, not when I could be there for you.
I sighed. How could I ever forget that he had felt that way about me, even for a second? The night was getting colder, and a gust of wind blew past me. The fabric of my dress was thin enough that I felt the drop in temperature immediately. I rubbed my arms to keep them warm.
I heard Jason stand and come up behind me. My breath caught in anticipation, but he only draped a light shawl over my shoulders. His fingers trailed down my arms as he smoothed the length of the cotton, and I shivered.
“My mother keeps them out here in case it gets cold,” he explained.
He was standing so close I could feel his warm breath on my neck. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He was silent. Through the thin cotton, the pads of his fingers felt hot against my skin. I could feel the heat of his body behind me. If I leaned back even a little, I would be flush against him, and yet he made no move to leave.
He shifted his fingers lightly, trailing them along my arms. I closed my eyes, wanting him to continue. “Are you planning to lecture me some more about the walls I’ve built around myself?” I asked shakily.
He chuckled and lowered his hands. “No, I’m done analyzing you. I’m going for a walk—unless you’re open to fucking, of course.”
Zero-commitment, guilt-free sex.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe as red-hot arousal pooled between my thighs. “Jason…” My voice was weak.
“What?” he said in my ear. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
It was, but then again, it wasn?
??t. I didn’t have the words to explain, but as his hands moved to hitch up my dress, I decided it wasn’t necessary to explain it to myself or to him, not yet anyway, not when my whole body was anticipating his touch. He drew my dress up, his fingers tracing a heated trail along my thighs and hips. Then when the dress was bunched around my waist, he slid his hand into my panties.
I parted my legs just enough so he could explore my aching core. His fingers slid over my clit, making my entire body tingle. I was so wound up that my hips jerked with every caress.