Michelle went still for half a second, so fast anyone else would’ve missed it, before forcing out a breath.
“No, it’s a fair question,” she said, though her voice was too even. Too careful.
She shifted in her seat, rubbing her palms along her thighs before sitting up a little straighter.
“I felt it ran its course,” she said simply.
Bullshit.
I let the words sit between us, waiting to see if she’d say more.
She didn’t.
“So your… relationships have a timeline?” I asked instead, watching her carefully while keeping us safe driving.
She smiled, but there was no real warmth behind it. “It wasn’t a relationship.”
“Right. An arrangement.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Yes. And they expire when I feel they get to a certain point.”
Something hot and bitter settled in my gut. “You’ve always been this way?”
She shot me a look. “You sound skeptical.”
“No,” I said, leaning forward. “Just… curious.”
She huffed out a short laugh, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, in the way she clenched her fingers together.
“There’s nothing wrong with not doing relationships,” she said, voice firm. “When men have flings, they’re considered players. They get respect for it. But when I do it, I get condescending looks and backhanded judgments.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twisting in her lap. “The fact that I like sex and refuse to be in a relationship doesn’t make me a bad person,” she continued, voice quiet but sure. “I’m sick of the double standard.”
I had so many fucking questions. But I knew better than to ask them when she was already looking like she was ready to jump out of the car.
“Mitch,” I said, keeping my voice steady, soft, “I’m not judging you whatsoever.”
She lifted a brow, skeptical.
I smirked. “From what I recall, you were very upfront about what we were.”
“I always am.”
Her lips twitched, a flicker of mischief flashing through her eyes. “Again, I don’t tend to play games with men—unless it’s torturing you, apparently.”
That earned a laugh out of me.
She sighed just as I pulled into the valet parking line, her fingers tapping against her knee like she was holding back something she wasn’t willing to say. I tossed my manners out the window and placed my hand on her thigh.
Her breath hitched.
One.
Two.
Three seconds passed, her skin warm beneath my palm, but she didn’t pull away.
Not yet.
