“Perhaps we can refuel in bed?” I suggest as I melt against him. I don’t need to ask twice.
The sun has set by the time we’ve devoured the share plate and enjoyed several more atomic orgasms. I drift off, wondering if Nick will be there in the morning.
This time I wake up in my own bed, the small spoon to Nick’s big spoon, with no desire to move out of his grip. This is a risk. A pretty big one. Yet I feel like I have no choice but to see where this leads. It’s like Nick has a gravitational pull I am powerless to resist. He is the moon and I am the tide. Resistance is futile, as they say inStar Trek, and I’ve never been one to waste time in futile pursuits.
He must sense I’m awake because his lips brush my ear. “Do you have plans today?”
“Nothing specific,” I answer vaguely, a little shy to say what I’m thinking, which is, you are my plans.“You?”
“I do, as it happens.” I feel a twinge of disappointment before he continues. “Lots of plans. Lots of exceedingly dirty plans.”
“Dirty, hmm? How dirty?” I rub my arse against his morning erection.
“Absolutely filthy. We’ll need a shower. Maybe even two.” His fingers slide over my hips and slip between my legs, where I’m already wet and throbbing. “Does that sound like something you might be able to get on board with?”
“Yes,” I moan, already feeling the orgasm building, “that is definitely something I can get on board with.”
Nick was right. His plans were filthy. And did involve two showers and four orgasms—each—before we decide last night’s refuel is no longer enough. We make it out the door by mid-afternoon, starving and exhausted. Nick’s shirt is covered in red, purple and blue paint, but he doesn’t seem to care, which surprises me a little. He’s always so put together at work. At least I managed to get the paint off his face and out of his hair.
We head to my favourite nearby café on foot, snag a table and order quickly before the kitchen closes. Once the server delivers our coffees, I jump right in.
“So, this”—I wave my hand between us—“what do you think this is? I mean, is it a one-time thing or …?”
One of Nick’s eyebrows lifts towards his hairline, which he does quite often, I’ve noticed. “It’s already been more than a one-time thing.”
“You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes.
Nick leans back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Despite a furrowed brow, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. Not surprising, to be honest. I’ve lost count of the orgasms, and I can only imagine he has, too.
“Cards on the table? I’m not looking for a relationship. They don’t seem to work for me. And I think you’d agree we probably don’t have enough in common for a relationship to work. But I do seem unable to resist you, and more to the point, I don’t want to. Whether you want whatever this is,”—he waves his hand between us, echoing my earlier action—“to continue is up to you, so long as you understand the limitations. Of course, if you want to call a halt right now, I will respect your position and we need never mention this weekend again.”
Forgetting this weekend is precisely what I should do. And exactly the opposite of what I want. Ruh-Roh as Scooby Doo would say.
“So, you’d like to continue sleeping together but no relationship. No dating?”
“Are you serious? Yes, I would definitely like to continue sleeping—or not sleeping—together.” He shoots me one of those rare grins.
“Oh. Okay. Well, me too. If you are.” I’m in danger of babbling. Taking a sip of my chai latte, I attempt to align brain and mouth. “In the interests of full disclosure, I don’t do relationships either. So, no strings works for me.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. I avoid relationships like the plague. But there is an unsettled feeling in my gut I can’t place. “I guess we should keep this to ourselves in the office?”
“I think it would be best, don’t you? It’s nobody’s business, and it’s not like this is going anywhere. We’re simply two people exploring an intense attraction.” He breaks off as the server delivers our food, leaving me to wonder if he means when the project is over and we are no longer being thrown together, we’ll go our separate ways. We haven’t even touched on whether this is exclusive.
I decide it’s best not to overthink it. I’m not interested in a relationship, and neither is he. Enough said. I dig into my lunch and push any questions I have out of my conscious mind. I’m just going to relax and enjoy this while it lasts.
Chapter Seventeen
Nick
Ifinallydragmyselfaway from Lulu after a delicious late lunch in a grungy little café near her loft. I was slightly worried about eating there based on the state of the place, but the food was fantastic. Although it could have had something to do with how monumentally hungry I was. Or how relaxed I was feeling. It’s amazing what great sex will do for your mood. And it was great. I’ve never had sex quite like it.
While studying at Oxford, I had a couple of pretty intense relationships, but all my relationships here in Sydney have been pretty lacklustre. I don’t know whether it was being so far from home or not having my father’s expectations and my mother’s judgement breathing down my neck on a daily basis, but I felt more myself there than I ever have. Until now. Not that this is a relationship.
But it’s not purely the sex either. Which surprises me a little. Lulu is funny, well read, articulate and incredibly warm. She’s great company, and we laughed all through lunch, which is odd because I’m aware I can be somewhat awkward in social situations, and my small talk game is pretty weak. But with her, I feel more comfortable than I can remember feeling with anyone other than my sister. I’d never have imagined we have anything in common, yet we seem to agree on a whole range of things—from the state of politics in this country, to the tragedy of there being only twelve episodes ofFawlty Towers.
As I head home, I think about the stark difference between this simple lunch with Lulu and my recent dinner with Eleanor. Even while I was still sitting at the table with Eleanor, I couldn’t have said what we discussed, yet with Lulu, I remember every moment. The banter, how she ordered a plate of food bigger than her head and then laughed at herself as she devoured it, offering me tastes and moaning in delight. How we shared a dessert, feeding each other from the same spoon.
None of that changes my position, though. I told Lulu I wasn’t interested in a relationship, which is true. You could say I was in a relationship with Eleanor, but in reality, that was just on paper. Neither of us made room in our lives for the other, and there were no actual feelings involved. I don’t have the time or inclination for a relationship. Nor, I think, the interpersonal skills required to make a success of one. Frankly, there’s too much up in the air for me right now to even consider one. Until I get my head on straight, I don’t have much to offer. Especially not to a woman like Lulu. It’s a relief she feels the same.
Then there’s the undeniable fact we come at life from opposite sides of the brain. I can’t imagine this developing into a relationship. But I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
