Drinks had been a part of seduction for as long as alcohol had been helping people make bad life choices. I watched dozens of men try to close the deal with women in my bar every week. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time I’d used a cocktail to seduce a woman, but it might have been the first time her reaction seduced me back. Watching Charlotte’s appreciation for the drink I’d made her and the attention she paid to it was a heady thing.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said, feeling something much stronger than made sense at her praise.
Now that I had her back in my bar again, I had to figure out how to get her to take the next step. She’d been clear our first night together. She’d told me exactly what shewanted, and I gave it to her. The challenge now was to show her that what she said she wanted wasn’t what she needed. Not from anI know better than youmisogynistic bullshit standpoint—I’d never be fool enough to underestimate the woman in front of me. But from awouldn’t it be great if we couldperspective. That would take every bit of skill I had.
––––––––
EVERY TIME I thought I had a handle on things, Ford found a way to turn the tables on me. From his seductive drinks to his hand wrapped around my ankle during negotiations our first night, he managed to keep me off-balance just enough to make sure I never assumed anything. I had to stay right in the present with him or risk ending up at his mercy. It was unnerving, exciting, and almost as delicious as the drink he’d made me.
I’d come to the bar to thank him for the gift and managed to lie to myself, albeit unconvincingly, that that was all I wanted from him. But when he leaned across the bar, close enough for me to get lost in the amber flecks of his eyes and breathe in the sharp citrus scent that surrounded him either from his cologne or the ingredients for the cocktails he used to seduce me, it was clear—to me, at least—that I’d follow him willingly to the nearest bed or table or—fuck it—wall for a chance to have his hands and mouth on me again. To touch him and feel him take his pleasure from me even as he gave it back a dozen times over.
So maybe we could turn one one-night stand into two. Or three. The important part was eliminating the pretense of a relationship. That’s when people got hurt, when expectations didn’t line up with the reality of the situation. We were both intelligent adults. We’d done so well negotiating the sexy times the other night. There wasn’t a reason I could see why we couldn’t turn that same skill to negotiating more time together. As long as we were both crystal-clear about our expectations from each other, mutual orgasms didn’t need to lead to uncomfortable feelings.
I didn’t see Ford as the kind of guy who’d try to pin me down the way men whoultimately wanted wives tried to. I’d never play second to his career because our careers wouldn’t enter into this thing I was hoping we’d do—I could admit that much to myself.
I might have closed the door to my emotions and men, but I was a master negotiator. Figuring out how to get clients the best I could out of a bad situation was squarely in my wheelhouse. I could turn that same skill set to collecting as many no-strings-attached orgasms from Ford as I could and giving them right back to him in exchange. It could be a clear transactional thing. Boundaries laid out and negotiated ahead of time. No surprises or pesky emotional conflicts to ruin things.
“What in the world is running through that gorgeous mind of yours? I know my drink didn’t put that look on your face.”
“I’ve been thinking.” I paused, angling for the best lead in.
“No shit.” He laugh snorted.
“Careful.” I swear, if he made aI thought I smelled something burningjoke, I was going to walk out and never come back. Orgasms be damned. I’d hate it, but I’d do it.
“Always with you, cher.” His gaze met mine, and I felt myself start to soften. The man had some kind of weird voodoo magic. “I only meant, you’re always thinking. It’s very sexy.” He leaned across the bar, closing the distance between us until we were near enough to kiss.
I at least still had the presence of mind to glance around the bar to see if anyone was watching. I didn’t want him to get in trouble for making out with a customer. Unless nobody cared. Maybe it was something he did sometimes. Unlikely, I knew that, but it didn’t stop my brain from spiraling out in that direction. I might talk a good game about no strings attached, but apparently I still had some strings. The pause was enough to give Ford time to come to his senses too.
“Jesus, you get me all twisted up.” He shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of some kind of buzzing and took a step backward to lean against the counter behind him. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”
“I have a proposition for you.” The distance between us made it slightly easier for me to think and watching him lean back, his strong forearms gripping the counter and that cocky grin playing at the corners of his mouth, cemented my decision to make the offer. I wanted him again. And again and probably a half dozen more times. If I could work out the sticky emotional bits, I wasn’t going to spend another moment doubting it.
“I’m intrigued.” He looked deceptively casual, and I wondered how much of it was anact. A fair bit, I imagined, but knowing he cared about looking too interested made my task easier, so I was content to go with it.
“It occurred to me the real danger in spending more than one night together was the emotional entanglements that are so often a part of sexual relationships. People mistake chemistry and attraction for romance, expectations aren’t met, and everything goes off the rails. But.” I stood so I could pace a bit the way I would if I were speaking to a witness—or, more accurately—the judge. “We’ve already demonstrated our ability to negotiate with each other. If we could do that with our emotional expectations, then there would be no reason we couldn’t see each other again. Unless you see something I don’t.” I threw the last bit in as a consolation, but I didn’t expect him to raise an objection. He’d been all in the other night. I’d been the one putting on the brakes. I just didn’t want to be the one doing it anymore.
“What are you proposing, counselor?”
When he said my job title, it sounded sexy. I was so fucked.
It struck me again how easy everything was with him. I almost never told men what I did because it complicated things unnecessarily. With Ford, it was just one more detail. Something he seemed interested in, not something to avoid. Next to that thought was the more dangerous one—that maybe because of Ford’s job, he’d be less inclined to want to suppress mine. I’d learned through experience and personal observation that there was a hierarchy of work in relationships and for professional men that meant theirs was more important.
Not all men. I get that. Erik and Alex might be a good example. He seemed completely enamored with her work and a hundred and ten percent behind whatever she turned her attention to. But add in homes, families and children, and things had at least historically skewed that way. I didn’t think they would with Ford. Not that we were having a relationship. We were negotiating its antithesis. I was fervently ignoring for now that, in and of itself, might be its own kind of relationship.
“Friends with benefits. No romantic entanglement. Just a chance to explore the physical thing we seem to have. But.” I held up my index finger the way I would if I was making an important point in court. “We have no emotional expectations. Even thefriendpart implies an unnecessary level of intimacy but it also implies a level of decency and integrity in the way we treat each other so I’m okay with it.” Nothing sexier than morality talk when trying to set up a way to explore all the filthy things I wanted us to do with each other.
Ford looked unfazed.
“Okay. But.” He held his index finger up, mirroring my previous gesture. “I want an addendum.”
“A what?”
“An addendum. An addition. Supplemental terms. A clarification.”
His lips curved in that cocky grin I was getting way too used to. It had the conflicting effect of making me want to kiss him and bite him at the same time. Neither impulse served me at the moment.
“I know what an addendum is, Ford. What are your terms?”
