Page 10 of Last Resort

“It’s a hard combination to beat.” He taps his glass against mine. “You should try it.”

All I can do is shake my head and smile into my drink. Is this flirting? Is he actually flirting with me?

It feels weird and exciting and yet, I just broke up with Clint hours ago. I should not be flirting. I should be . . .

“I’ll ask it again, Collins,” he murmurs just above the fray. “Why am I barking up the wrong tree?”

I study this man who makes me feel uncomfortable in all the best kinds of ways. I know the last thing I need right now is to stand here and flirt with him, and the best way to prevent it is to be dead honest. A player like him will run at the first sight of what’s perceived to be an emotionally unstable woman.

“Because I just broke up with my boyfriend. Anything with me would be a rebound and we know how those go.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Messy. Complicated. Fleeting.” He smirks and gives a shrug as if he’d be up for the task. “Rebounds can be a good thing.”

Well, that just backfired.

And why am I glad that it did?

“Or they can be a disaster,” I counter.

“Not if you pick the right person to rebound with.”

“Let me guess, you like to play the part because of the fleeting portion of your answer? Less strings. No attachment.”

“That and the great sex.”

“Should I assume that you provide them with the great part of that sentence?”

“We’ll just say I’m a definite, contributing factor,” he says with zero shame.

“You sure think highly of yourself.”

“It’s not my fault women aren’t looked after properly. I mean, if a man can’t find his way around a woman’s body . . . is he even a man?”

I snort and roll my eyes.

“Are you telling me I’m wrong? Are you telling me that your ex cared about your needs as much as you did his? Was sex a duty and not something you looked forward to?”

Yes. I scream the word in my head as I think of Clint and how boring sex had gotten. Lay down. Spread legs. Moan and fake it. He groans and rolls over. And then how I’d consider if it was worth bothering to finish myself off after his breathing evened out and his soft snores filled the room. Mostly? It wasn’t.

Then again, maybe it had always been boring. Maybe I had loved him so much at the beginning that I overlooked the lackluster sex. And then as time progressed and animosity set in, I just participated rather than enjoyed it.

“Huh.” It’s the only thing he says but rest assured it sounds like, you know I’m right.

“How long were you with him?”

“Two years.”

“Two years with the same person? Christ.”

“Monogamy not your thing?”

“Didn’t say that.” He gives a half-hearted shrug and shifts on his feet.

“You didn’t have to. You implied it.”

“You make a lot of assumptions,” he murmurs. He places a finger on the condensation about to slide from my glass then lifts it to his mouth and licks it off.

My attention is drawn to his tongue. Hell, any woman with a pulse would be.