And now because I know what it’s like to have Cole Green at my disposal, I’m torn between wanting to give it all back, or take him to the nearest bedroom, have my way with him, then leave town and never see him again.
But that feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me I’d be making a mistake if I slept with him again.
That I’d regret it.
While we’re at work, I would play his little game. I would accept the birthday flowers—that I deep down hoped would be from my mom—and I would allow him to dote on me as much ashe wanted. But behind closed doors? We weren’t anything other than colleagues.
At least, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself, anyway.
I’ve relied on my trusty friend in my top drawer a little too often this week, but I fear the poor thing is going to get the workout of a century and potentially break if I don’t distract myself and leave my apartment.
God, I’m turning into a horny, sex crazed maniac, all because I can’t accept that a man might want me for more than one night.
Correction.
He might want mybodyfor more than one night. Notme.
I keep reminding myself that if anything were to happen between us, it would be strictly sex—nothing more. But that’s a concept that I just can’t seem to grasp.
My body is aching to feel his against mine again, and after that stupid kiss that should never have happened… Shit, what a mess.
And I told him to not ask next time? Do I have any brain cells left, or am I letting my sex drive do all the talking?
And they say men think with their dicks.
At this rate, cast me into the same ocean and leave me there to think about my actions.
It’s like, because I know what it feels like to have him, my pussy is begging for him, but my mind is staying strong, firm on my final answer being a hard no. I just went against everything I believe in by telling him that he could kiss me whenever he wanted, but he laughed before he stepped into the elevator.
Helaughed.
Did he laugh because he knew the effect he’d just had on me, or because he thought that by me giving in to that kiss, it meant he had won whatever game we were playing?
Does that mean it’s over?
Resting my back against the cold, wooden door, I push off it and take a few steps to my fridge before searching for ice in the freezer and any drink other than water. But I come up short.
“Fucking dammit,” I mutter to myself, with Cassandra’s keys—my temporary keys—still in my purse. I take it as a sign to finally explore the town that I’ll be calling home for the next few months.
My phone vibrates in my hand, stopping me in my tracks.
Taking a deep breath, I flip the phone over, and see the same unknown number from the other day reappear on my screen.
I know exactly who it is, but I refuse to save it.
His number alone makes me feel all kinds of things. Could you imagine what seeing hisnamewould do?
And if his name were just…in my phone, I would feel tempted to use it.
I’m a serial texter, so I’d probably abuse his number until he gets sick of me.
That might not be a bad idea…
Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I open the texts.
Unknown:How does friends with benefits sound?
Unknown:Because I’ll be honest, being your pretend boyfriend is fun and all, but, hell, there’s nothing fake about the things I want to do to you.
