“Oh?” I ask, lowering the hand splayed across her back, pulling her into my groin where she can feel exactly what she does to me. I groan at the same time she gasps. “And what would they be?”
Her hands come up to rest on my chest. “If I agree to this arrangement, then we need to establish clear limits around work. No displays of affection. No lingering stares. I work too damn hard to put my job on the line.”
“Done. What else?”
“You’re here for two months, right?”
“Right.”
“I want a clean break when you go back to New York. No texts, no calls, no attachments.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“And Anna?” she prompts, a flicker of guilt crossing her features.
I exhale slowly. This is the trickiest part. What we’re doing doesn’t just blur the lines, it distinctly crosses them. Our relationships with Anna run deep, and this would feel like betrayal if she ever found out—especially after the shitstorm with Nicole.
“Anna complicates things,” I admit. “But if this is to remain casual and not go further than the time I’m here, then I don’t think there’s much harm in keeping it from her.”
Her eyes close momentarily, and for the first time I see a flicker of vulnerability. “I hate lying to my best friend… but…” Her voice trails off.
I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles in a soothing circle. “I understand. I don’t either. But I think, for now, it’s what’s best for everyone.”
She looks down where our hands join, deep in thought, her brow furrowed. The touch is intimate, but she isn’t pulling away.
“Are you all right?” I ask, capturing her eyes with my own.
She nods. “Yes. Maybe one more thing.”
“And what’s that?” I ask.
She takes a measured breath before speaking. “Don’t fall in love with me, Max.”
I almost laugh.
“That won’t be an issue,” I say.
“I mean it.” She pulls her hand from mine. “I’m not the kind of woman who will fawn over you and cater to your every whim. I won’t be sitting up at night waiting for your call or text—I have my own life, one I’m perfectly content with, and I plan to keep it that way. I don’tdofeelings—I fuck.” She adjusts her stance. “If we do this, that’s all it will be.”
Her bluntness shouldn’t catch me off guard, but it almost does. The corner of my mouth twitches upward.
“Thank you for elaborating,” I say.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not.” I pull her closer. “Believe me, you continue to impress me. Most people dance around what they want. Your directness is…” I search for the right word. “Refreshing.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I’m discovering that.” I run a hand over my jaw, studying her. “For what it’s worth, I don’t do feelings either. This is merely a convenient, consensual arrangement.”
“Good. So, we’re clear then?”
“We are,” I agree.
“Excellent. When do we start?”
“Tonight,” I say without hesitation. “My apartment. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
