"How I'm doing," I echoed. "Are we talking about the garbage disposal again? Or being recently fired? Or newly divorced? Or my role as the star of last month's political shitshow? What is the concern in question?"
"Any of the above. What are you up for?"
"Why do you want to know?"
He reached out, thumbed open the top button. "Because I'm not going to throw you over my shoulder and toss you facedown on the bed if you don't want it."
"You're—oh." I watched as he opened another button. "Then you've decided the best way to resolve this matter of our shared stubbornness is putting me to bed, is that it?"
"I'm not putting you to bed." He hooked an arm around my waist, dragged me up against him. "I'm taking you to bed."
"And by that you're saying…" I peered up at him, hoping to the heavens he'd finish the sentence for me, but after a beat it was clear that wasn't happening. No, I had to finish the sentence. "You're saying you're joining me in there."
"Fuck yes, I'm joining you."
"You're saying you're ready to finish what you started the other day."
"I've been ready all week. You were the one who needed to rest up. You weren't ready for me and you know it."
"That's highly debatable," I murmured.
"I don't fuck girls who haven't slept in a month," he replied.
I gave him a brassy smile. "Oh, is that what you have in mind? I wasn't sure where you were going with this."
He flipped open the next two buttons. "I'm going to rip this dress off like it's on fire and I'm going to taste every sweet inch of you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't take it anymore and then I'm going to fall asleep right beside you. And I think it's pretty cute how you make me spell it out for you when that was your job."
"I didn't need you to spell it out," I said with all the indignance one could muster with her dress open to her navel. "I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."
"People have let you down before."
A considerable part of me wanted to argue with this sudden shift from our play-fighting to this very real, very unpleasant truth, to push him to explain that statement and why he felt it was appropriate to make it now. The other part of me was small and tender but it was starving, and it cried out at the recognition he offered. "Yeah."
"Right here, right now"—he lifted his palm to my cheek, slipped his fingers into my hair, tapped his thumb against my lips—"I won't be one of those people."
I shuddered. My whole body, it was one indelicate shudder. It wasn't necessary but I still said, "Okay."
"Do you know what that means, Jasper? Do you know how to trust someone to show up for you? Or do you play the part while knowing you're the only one who could ever give you what you want?"
"I know what it means," I said defiantly. "I just don't have much experience with anyone making good on those promises."
He rubbed his thumb over my lips again before tracing the shape of my birthmark. "I won't be one of those people."
Because I was a bratty little punk under all this polish, I shook off his thumb and gestured to the table. "Are you waiting for me to hop up there?"
"You fucking know I'm not," he growled, his hand sliding down to my neck. "I'm having a conversation with you here because I don't want any confusion in there."
I blinked away before saying, "Condoms."
"Of course."
"I'm not into pain or degradation."
He nodded. "Good, me neither."
"I'm serious. I don't mind a slap on the ass or two but if you think I'm going to count while you spank me, I will walk out of here naked."
"The last thing I want to do is spank you in any disciplinary way," he replied.
