I sigh, dreading the words about to spill out of my mouth. “I think we should wait to have sex. At least three official dates. Like a future couple, not like?—”
“An escort and a client?” she finishes for me, understanding the sentiment.
“Exactly.”
She rolls her eyes so hard, her pupils poke her brain before returning to stare at me, unimpressed. “Forrest, what is waiting going to accomplish? You’ve already had me in every position imaginable.”
“Come on. For me?” I pucker my bottom lip, trying to look irresistibly adorable. “This is for real. I want to do this right.”
She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Not until three dates, then?”
“Agreed.” I glance at the clock: 1:23 a.m. “Starting now.”
“Starting now,” she echoes, her eyes dropping briefly to my semi-bulge before meeting my gaze again. We look at each other for a long, charged moment.
“This is a terrible idea,” she whispers.
“The worst,” I agree, not moving.
“I mean, we’ve already seen each other naked.”
“Multiple times,” I add.
“And we’re adults.”
“Very adult.”
“And we’re both clearly consenting,” she emphasizes.
“So consenting.”
Another beat of silence.
“But this is our second chance, and we’re doing this right,” I say firmly, as if reminding myself.
This time I’m met with a baby eye roll. Not nearly as theatrical as the first. “Fine,” she mutters. “Starting tomorrow.”
“Technically today, but yes.”
She closes her laptop and sets it aside, then scoots down under her comforter. “You’re welcome to stay,” she says, patting the space beside her. “Just for sleep.”
“Just for sleep,” I agree, kicking off my shoes and sliding in next to her.
She turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I can feel the warmth of her body inches from mine, the subtle shift of the mattress as she gets comfortable.
“Forrest?” Her voice is soft in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“I feel selfish saying it, but I’m glad you quit your job. You can keep my ten thousand dollars. I think you’re going to need it.”
I reach for her hand beneath the covers, threading our fingers together. “Would you still be with me if I was broke, living under a bridge?”
She squeezes my hand. “Definitely.”
“Good.” I pull her closer until her head is resting on my chest, her hair tickling my chin. “I promise it’ll be a really nice bridge. Lots of colorful graffiti. Tire-burning bonfires every night for the added romance.”
She laughs softly against my shirt. “Lovely.”
