He sits up, his pretty lips in an even prettier pout. “Okay, Daddy.”
I grimace. “Ground rule number one: don’t call me Daddy.”
“Why? Does it make you feel old? There’s only thirteen years difference between us.”
“No, it makes me feel gross. No kink shaming intended, but daddy/boy role play isn’t my thing.”
“What is your thing?”
Him. He’s my thing. The thought comes out of nowhere. It also scares the shit out of me, so I keep it to myself.
“I don’t have a thing. Unless doing whatever makes us feel good is a thing.”
He runs his tongue over his lower lip and fuck if I’m not tempted to throw the rules I’m about to set out the damned window. “Sounds like a pretty good thing to me.”
“Ground rule number two: this stays between us.”
He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
“And ground rule number three: we don’t let this affect our working relationship. When one of us decides they’re ready to call it quits, we walk away and get back to work, no hard feelings.”
The last sentence tastes like acid on my tongue. I don’t want to think about our inevitable end, but I have to. Inevitable because I’m damaged goods. In my mid-thirties. Have never had a relationship—with a male or female—that’s lasted more than a few months. Definitely not boyfriend material. And Grady—he’s young. Starry-eyed. Optimistic. He deserves better than a washed-up, cynical race engineer. Eventually he’ll see that.
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that two rules?”
“Fine, then. That’s rules three and four. Satisfied?”
“Not yet.” He presses a hand to my aching cock. “But soon, hopefully.”
I bite back a groan. “Very funny.”
“My blue balls don’t think so.” He climbs on top of me, straddling my hips with his knees. His dick rubs against mine through our clothes and I’m happy to discover that he’s hard again too. “So what do you say? Got any more rules, or can we have sex already?”
“No more rules.” I work a hand between us so I can pop the button on his dark-wash jeans. “And yeah. Let’s have sex already.”
CHAPTER13
Grady
I hate Ben’s stupid ground rules.
I hate that he’s already talking about ending things when we’ve barely even started. Why jinx it? And why assume it’s going to end? It’s like he’s already decided we can’t be anything more than temporary fuck buddies. Like I don’t have a say in it.
But we can argue about that later. Because right now he’s got one hand on my zipper while the other frantically tries to lift my shirt over my head.
“Let me help you with that.” I grab the shirt myself and whip it off, tossing it over my shoulder.
He leans back and studies me, his eyes hazy with desire. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
I know I’m good-looking. I’ve got two eyes and a mirror, and I work hard in the gym. Still, it’s nice to hear it, especially coming from him. As flattered as I am, however, I really want to get this show on the road. “Are you going to stare at me all day or what? I mean, you can touch me, you know. That’s usually how this works.”
His fuck-me lips curl at the corners into a naughty smile. “Impatient much?”
“More like horny much,” I whine, not bothering to hide my desperation. “I’ve been dreaming about this since you kissed me in your office.”
Earlier, if I’m honest. Like since he walked into that interview in Belgium. But I’m not about to admit that and risk scaring him off. Not when I’m so fucking close to finally having him right where I want him.
“You kissed me first,” he counters, his deep voice rumbling through me.
