CHAPTER EIGHT
THIS ROOM HAS not a single personal detail. It’s cream, white, with some gold details. There are no pictures, no clothes, no mobile phone chargers, nothing that indicates it has a resident.
‘This isn’t your bedroom, is it?’
She props up on one elbow, her body flushed, her cheeks pink and, despite the fact we’ve spent the last two hours exploring each other, I feel renewed sexual interest writhing through me. Her breasts are firm and rounded, her nipples dark. I reach forward and cup her breast, my fingers brushing over her nipples without hesitation. She bites down on her full lower lip, her teeth white.
‘No.’ She shifts her gaze, looking around as I did a moment ago.
‘Where’s your room?’
‘Upstairs.’
I nod. We were impatient to get into bed. I don’t think I could have waited much longer. But I know, on a cellular level, that it’s so much more than that. There are parts of her she keeps boxed away from me, private, self-contained, completely to herself. I’d say there are enormous parts of her she holds that way, in fact.
‘Anyway...’ her voice is different—formal, stilted—and she shifts a little, moving away from me so my hand drops between us ...thanks for coming over.’
I stare at her as the unspoken meaning of her words plays through my mind. But it’s time you were going now.
It’s more of the same bullshit. Keeping herself locked up, pushing me away. Is it because of my connection to the Harts? Because of how we hooked up that first night, and what I didn’t tell her then?
Of course not. Even on that night she was explicit about what she wanted from me: no strings sex. She said it and she followed through, evicting me from her place once she’d got what she wanted.
And now?
Why do I feel like things have changed between us?
Frustration gnaws at me because I’m the last guy to be needy in a relationship but right now her constant pulling away is really getting under my skin.
‘My pleasure.’ I grin, as though I don’t get the subtext.
‘So...’ she frowns a little ‘...thanks.’
I have to stifle a laugh. ‘You hungry?’
Her frown deepens. ‘Not really. You should probably just take dinner with you.’
Well, that’s a little less subtext and a bit more ‘get the hell out’.
‘Avery?’ I step out of bed, looking around for my boxers then pulling them on. ‘You might not be hungry, but I’m starving. There’s a bag of perfectly good, greasy takeaway in the kitchen and I intend to eat my bodyweight before I leave here.’
She stares at me, not quite sure what to say. I suspect no one’s ever called her on her bullshit before. Then again, most men she brings back here to fuck are probably very happy with the deal. Get their rocks off and go? Perfect night out.
My chest constricts painfully. I turn away on the pretence of grabbing my shirt off the ground, pulling it over my head while that thought plays out in my mind. Just how often does she do this? And why does contemplating that make me feel like my ribs are being dismantled one by one?
‘I just said I’m not hungry.’
I turn back to her, the surprise on her face almost making me feel like a bit of a dick, but I stay the course anyway. ‘Yes, and what you meant is that you want me to go now we’ve fucked.’ I cross back to the bed, putting a hand out to her. She stares at it like I’ve just told her I’ve got a resurgent diagnosis of the bubonic plague. ‘I’m not into that. We can sleep together and eat together and laugh together and not have it mean anything more than we like doing those things together. It’s not complicated. It’s not dangerous.’
She stares at me, bewildered.
‘I’m working on a report I have to deliver to the European Commission for Global Trade in two weeks. I’m not going to be able to stay in San Francisco indefinitely. So eat a meal with me tonight, and stop looking as though I’m asking you to marry me.’
That brings a small smile to her face. I’m not sure if it’s the idea that I definitely have to leave the States or the absurd notion that I’d propose to her, but she’s smiling and a second later she stands up, bringing her body towards mine.
‘Well, that’s a relief because my answer would be a resounding no.’ She kisses me, hard and fast, then moves away. ‘So what did you bring, anyway?’
‘Chinese.’