‘Sex for Beginners,’ I agree with a wink.
‘Well, Miss Carmichael, I’m delighted to say you passed, with flying colours.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Silence hums around us, buzzing like paparazzi at fashion week. I hold my breath and wait, though I have no idea what I’m waiting for.
‘Why did you come here?’
His brows lift, just a little. ‘I was looking for you.’
Heat spreads through my body.
‘Why?’
His hands lift to my hair, flicking it between his fingers. ‘You suit blonde.’ His smile is somehow self-deprecating. ‘Then again, you also suit pink.’
I laugh. ‘Did you come here to discuss my hair?’
‘No.’ His eyes pierce mine. ‘I came here to find Miss Anonymous.’
‘Why?’
‘Because last week was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want more. More of her, you, this. And I think you do too.’
My jaw drops, my heart stops, my pulse cracks like a frozen river.
‘Nicholas—’
His name rushes from my lips, too much air, too much feeling. It’s too much. If sex were a college degree, this guy would hold several PhDs. He really thinks I’m the best? The best he’s ever had? Pride soars in my chest, and, more than that, the addiction centres of my brain are going into overdrive because he’s damned right. I do want more of this.
But... ‘We agreed it would just be one night.’
‘That was before.’ He shrugs away the objection, as though it doesn’t matter.
‘But you’re not... Neither of us wants... I mean, what are you saying?’
‘I’m glad you asked,’ he says teasingly, pulling me closer, wrapping his arms behind my back so our bodies are cleaved together in a way that is both sexy and intimate. ‘I came here wanting to fuck Miss Anonymous again, and I did. And still I want more. And now, I think I can see a way for both of us to get what we want.’
‘What’s that?’ I sound as if I’ve run a marathon.
‘Go out with me.’
Panic spirals through me and I shake my head on instinct. ‘I don’t date, Nicholas. I didn’t mean to imply that I want that...’
‘Relax.’ He grins, and something fizzes in my gut. ‘I don’t mean for real.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You haven’t dated in a long time, and that seems like a waste. So date me. Play with me. Fuck me.’ He says the last in a voice that is so deep it rumbles right through my bones. ‘I’m moving home in a month and, suddenly, I can’t think of any way I’d rather spend what remains of my time in New York than with you.’
His voice whips against me, seductive and intense. But I hold onto Chance, to what I owe Abbey, to the single-minded focus this business takes to run. ‘I can’t.’ My tone is clipped, strange-sounding in the midst of our conversation and what we’ve just done. ‘I don’t have time to date.’
‘That’s a cop-out.’ His words are a little mocking.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s the truth. I work really hard, and I can’t spare the time to fill your last few weeks here in New York.’
‘You’re saying you’d rather work than do more of this?’ He lifts a brow and, damn it, he is so hot, and I want him, and he knows it. He knows what he’s doing to me. I swallow, frustration biting into my belly.