“Like this.”
He didn’t hesitate in touching his lips to mine. It was as if he’d been waiting for an invitation. For me to drop that last brick in the wall and let him in.
I had wanted him to kiss me in that Detroit hotel room. Earlier than that, actually, at Tilly’s birthday party. I didn’t believe in manifesting things, but my body language was clearly reflecting my desires.
His lips tugged at mine, then a slight pause to give me a moment to resist—not a chance of that happening!—before he took control. The kiss was divine, stars bursting, thunder rolling, and then he gave my braid another tug. That should not have been sexy, but his mouth on mine and everything about him was overwhelming and arousing. Plus, we were on a bed, of which he took full advantage.
I should not have agreed to meet him here. But this kiss was so good, as was the weight of him over my body. Then he raised the sensual stakes as his hand wandered under my pleated skirt and foraged a while.
He drew back. “These tights are pissing me off.”
“That’s the idea.” The break in the proceedings came with a cold rush of common sense. I sat up, pushing his hand away. “I’m not making out with you in your niece’s bedroom at a Halloween party.”
“News flash: you just did. Plus, I’m upset and sex would make me feel better.”
Graduated to sex rather quickly, there. “I won’t be having sex with you ever again.”
The saddest sentence ever uttered.
He snorted. “Got what you wanted, huh?”
“Jason, we’re not in a relationship. At least, not that way. Messing about with each other is just confusing.”
“So I can have sex with anyone else?”
“Of course.” I despised that idea with the hatred Tesla held for Edison. But I wasn’t prepared to give in here, so it was unfair to ask him to be celibate. “We’re not a couple. You can do whatever you want, and so can I.”
“So you’re going to have sex with someone else?”
Feeling miserable at the notion, I still needed to chase this to its logical, feminist conclusion. “If I want to.”
He stood and paced for a few seconds before facing me, hands on hips. “But if we want sex, then why not with each other?”
“Because, Jason,” I started, feeling like I was explaining to my students that the deadline for the paper was 5pm, not the morning after, “that’s what couples do, and we are not a couple. Are you worried that I’ll be bothered by you with someone else? I won’t.”
Liar, liar, braids on fire.
“No?”
“Like I said. Not a couple.”
His incredulity was a living thing, showcased in flashing eyes and a mouth that clearly wanted to bite my head off, or dare I hope, kiss me again. Angrily.
“This is bullshit. Was the sex not good?”
“Of course it was. It’s like pizza. Even bad pizza is decent.”
“What the fuck has pizza got to do with it?”
“Just the analogy with pizza is apt. Even bad sex is decent because you’re getting some.”
He stared at me, his eyes cold and hard. “I have no idea if you thought it was good or not.”
I stood and placed my hands on his chest, not one of my better ideas. But I was committed to my principles now and apparently, touching him would help get my point across.
“It was good, Jason. And it had the desired result. A baby. Now I’m giving you permission to return to normal programming.”
Though it made me ill. Better to draw the line now before we became too close.
