“Why is there something wrong with you?”
Because I think of your enforcer while your cock is in my mouth.
Can’t say that. “Tell me something,” I say instead.
“All right.”
“You have had sex with many women, right? Many of whom you probably still have to see after the fact in a non-sexual capacity.”
“Sure, sometimes.”
“How do you shut it off?” I ask. “How do you stop thinking about them like that after you’ve experienced something so intimate together?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “Well, to begin with, it helps not to think of it that way. View it more as a transaction—you’re two people who want to get off, so you want the same thing. You find one another attractive, and you can help each other out. You get in, get out, move on. It’s not intimacy; it’s just a mutually pleasurable physical activity. Like jogging together, but more fun.”
“But what if it isn’t? What if isn’t a cold exchange like that? I’m talking about when you have feelings involved, not… not that.”
“Well, then you’re generally fucked in a much less fun way,” he says, easily. “Catching feelings is a bad idea unless you’re in a relationship.”
I don’t know what to ask now.
Rafe seems to understand. “You’ll get over him, Laurel. It’s still fresh. You’re young and open-hearted, so you let him in much deeper than you should have. You’re paying a higher emotional toll than you should have to, but it won’t go on forever.”
This is so weird. Barely a minute after exchanging our own intimacies, curled up in his embrace, and talking about the heartache I’m feeling over someone else.
“I think you’ll ruin me if I go with you,” I tell him honestly.
He says nothing for a long while, then his hand drifts down my torso and he splays it over my abdomen. “I think I already have.”
6
Laurel
My phone buzzes for what seems like the millionth time since touching down at the airport in Nevada. My sister has been a good sport, but she’s at her wit’s end.
I completely get it. I had to ask her to buy me a plane ticket home after I landed in Chicago because I was out of money, and then this morning I had to text her and tell her not to come to pick me up at the airport, because I wasn’t ready to leave Chicago.
Her text messages are beginning to look like missives from an angry sailor.
I sigh, turning the phone face-down in my lap and trying to ignore the guilt. I look out the car window as we pass the strip, and Rafe’s hand settles casually on my thigh.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
I tear my gaze from the buildings passing by and look over at him. “It’s Carly again. She doesn’t understand what’s going on. I’m going to have to tell her the truth before she loses her mind. If we’re going to go through with this, there’s no reason to keep lying to her.”
Rafe nods his agreement. “We’ll call her tomorrow and clue her in.”
That sounds good. A tiny weight falls off my shoulders. No, it’s not done, but Rafe has said it will be, so I don’t have to keep thinking about it. Since I have so much else on my mind, that’s a good thing.
“I have a surprise for you when we get home,” he tells me.
“You do? I thought I deserved punishment, not surprises,” I tease.
His eyes are warm, even as he slides me a dry look. “You deserve lots of punishment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give you nice things from time to time. Once you learn your place, you’ll get plenty more nice things.”
“Hmph. Learn my place.”
Now he smirks, enjoying getting a rise out of me—even if just a little one. “I have a lot of work to do tonight, so unless you want to tag along, you’ll have to entertain yourself. You can unpack whatever Mia sent with you and Juanita will make you dinner.”