Nonplussed, I drawled, “Then don’t stand in front of me distracting me from an important conversation.”
“Exactly what I’m doing. We have three months to talk.” Canaan moved closer and lifted my chin with his index finger. “We never celebrated my win, and we’re not in Miami yet.”
I pushed myself to my knees, his raw maleness too inviting to ignore. I placed my hands on his chest. “Listen, I do run hot and cold too. The last two men I dated were purely physical, which worked for me. On one hand, I want you to blow my back out. On the other hand, it would be insanity for us to keep doing it and expect not to catch feelings. This energy between us is scary. I don’t want to fall for you. I have way too much at stake for love.”
“I feel the same way. I don’t have time for a relationship. I don’t want to be obligated to anyone until I get to where I want in my career. And even then, I’m not sure I want commitment.” Gentle hands squeezed my forearms before sliding up to my upper arms. His thumbs grazed the sides of my breasts, sending flames straight to my pussy. “We’re on the same page. Just because two people have crazy passion doesn’t mean that they should have a serious relationship. We already know our personalities clash. We wouldn’t work anyway.”
I nodded, mesmerized by him. He lowered his head to kiss me, and I gave him my cheek. “Then let’s prove that we can resist each other.”
Canaan complained. “Why the fuck would we do that?”
“Because I have to be honest with myself. We’re together for the next three months, sleeping in the same bed, waking up together like a couple. It already feels real. If you don’t want me to be phony, then this is my real. I can’t handle sexing you like we’re in a relationship, and we’re not.” I slowly pulled his nipple in my mouth and licked it before releasing it. “Let’s be clear. I do want to ride you again. Like, try some crazy shit with you and let you do whatever you want to me.”
He clenched his jaw before admitting, “You’re doing it again, confusing the hell out of me. Are we fucking or not?”
“What about this?” I rubbed my hands together with a wicked smile. “We’ll have sex again once you win the Formula One. Call it a celebratory fuck fest, and we get whatever lust that’s between us out of our bodies. Then we go our separate ways once we return to Houston, citing our busy schedules ruined our relationship.”
“Bet.” He chuckled. “Love the confidence you have in me. Guarantee you’ll be begging me to sex you way before May.” Canaan grabbed a chunk of my ass before climbing into the bed.
“Hey. That was way too rough,” I howled as I rubbed my behind.
“I couldn’t resist touching that fine ass in satin. It’s my favorite part of you.” He pulled back the covers and beckoned me with his finger to join him.
I reluctantly moved beside him, and he wrapped his arms around me, his hardness against my lower back. “We’re not having sex.”
“Mm. . . hmmm. Stop wiggling, and my dick will go down.”
“I can’t sleep like this. Your body is too hot,” I complained, though I loved the warmth and coziness of his arms.
He only held me tighter. “Good night, Kens.”
I finally sighed deeply. “Good night.”
Sleep was a long time coming for me as I considered all that had happened in the last two days and what lay ahead for the next three months. I was running from love. I recognized it when he looked up at me in the stands, and the heat that spread throughout my chest at his attention. Sooner or later, I would succumb to his allure, and truthfully, I may not survive a week if he were going to be this affectionate every night.
I prayed that in the next three months, the annoying, arrogant, and selfish bastard I’d always known Canaan to be would rise again.
Chapter 13
Kensie
The evening breeze of the Atlantic Ocean cooled my skin on the balcony of the Fisher Island beach house where we’d been staying since we arrived in Miami three weeks ago. The blank screen of my laptop taunted me. I’d been sitting out on this balcony for hours and had written a total of five sentences. My cell phone rested on my shoulder as I called my professor.
“I need an extension on my part of the research.”
“Kensie, this is your second extension, and we can’t move forward without your part.”
Dr. Radi, a sociologist who’d written many articles and books, had taken me under his wing when I first began my graduate studies. He had edited my book on relationships and had been a big cheerleader of my research efforts, though, like Canaan, he didn’t care for my reliance on social media to boost my profile. He hated that people who hadn’t spent years studying human behavior could make millions by discussing it as the truth, simply because they knew how to market themselves.
“Listen, can I have at least until next Monday?” I gripped my cell and closed my mocking computer. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Canaan, this gorgeous home, and my rising fame. Lately, my research took a backseat to social media, which sucked me in for hours as I tried to engage with as many people as I could who loved watching Canaan and me as we became this sort of celebrity couple.
He sighed, “Monday. We also need to meet and discuss your dissertation before you get too far behind. What about we meet up next Monday at the café near campus, and you can give me your part of the paper?”
I closed my eyes. While the rest of the world loved Zoom, my faculty advisor preferred in-person meetings. I hadn’t told him that I’d temporarily relocated to Miami and wouldn’t be back until the semester ended.
“Um . . . I’m researching the dating patterns of Cubans and Haitians in Miami. Can’t really leave, but I’ll send you my part of the article and some of my dissertation first thing Monday morning.” Okay, that was partially true. It’d been interesting to be in a space where different dialects abounded, though I also lived in a diverse city. Miami, unlike Houston, seemed to belong to another country.
“Dating patterns, Kensie? Stop it. I do have eyes and a cell. I already had to defend your behavior caught on video to the chair of the department.”
