He gets an expression like he feels like he said the wrong thing. He reaches out and puts his hand on mine. “You’re not intimidating. There’s something about the situation between us, though, that’s different, and making me little bit nervous.”
I’m struck by how honest he’s being. And I understand what he’s saying because there is something between us that seems different than just two friends with occasional benefits. There can’t possibly be something more than that, and yet it’s definitely different.
“Listen, I know you’re not that far out of a relationship with another man, and so that’s not something you’re looking for. I’m not looking for it either. With that said, I am attracted to you, Charlotte. I enjoy spending time with you, and last night was amazing.”
I smile and I’m a little worried that it looks goofy because on the inside I’m swooning at his words.
“What I’m asking, not very well, is if maybe we can continue on like we were last night. Two friends who enjoy each other’s company, mentally as well as physically.”
I watch him for a minute. “You’re saying you want to have sex with me again.”
He lets out a laugh. “I suppose that’s the essence of it, yes.”
“But there’s no strings?” I ask. In some ways, I wish I didn’t ask though because I’m not sure which answer I want to hear.
“No strings,” he confirms, and as I suspected, I’m disappointed in that. But I remind myself of our situation, and how strings would only make things more complicated.
“I guess it would make the whole pretending-to-be-engaged thing easier,” I say.
He looks down for a moment, like he didn’t like that comment. When he returns his gaze to mine, he says, “That’s not why I am proposing this. I’m being completely selfish in wanting to be with you. I suppose being able to pull off the fake engagement would be a perk, but the truth of the matter is, I enjoyed last night, so much, and I want to do it again.”
“You want to do it again?” I ask.
He nods, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand. “I want to do it again. Right now.” He leans forward and starts to kiss me, as he pushes my plate to the side on the table. Then he stands, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me up, turning me and lifting me to sit on the edge of the table.
He steps between my knees as he pushes my robe down my arms. His gaze rakes over my body, making my nipples tighten in anticipation. He runs a finger through the syrup on the plate and then holds it in front of me, the syrup dripping down, his eyes waggling suggestively. He drags his finger over my lips, down my chin, my neck to between my breasts.
Just like last night, I’m on fire in an instant.