Page 92 of Romeo

Me: Jeans.

Ma Belle: That’s all?

My eyebrows went up. The woman was absolutely fucking with me now.

Me: You suddenly sound interested.

Ma Belle: I’m building a mental picture

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall.

Christ Almighty.

Whatever control I’d been congratulating myself for having over the last few months apparently had limits, and Fiona had decided to start looking for them.

Me: Careful, Cher.

Ma Belle: Why?

I stared at the question.

Because the answer in my head wasn’t one she was getting tonight.

Not because she couldn’t handle flirting—she’d made that much clear.

But there was flirting, and then there was telling Fiona exactly where my thoughts had gone while I imagined her lying in bed.

I wanted that conversation someday.

I just didn’t want our first one happening through a screen.

Me: Mine might be better than yours.

Ma Belle: Prove it

My entire body went still.

Prove it.

Four months ago, I would’ve accepted that invitation before the other person had time to regret issuing it. I’d never been shy about sex, women, or telling someone exactly what I wanted.

Fiona was different.

That truth had become so familiar it barely surprised me anymore.

With her, I cared what happened after.

Me: Not over text.

Ma Belle: Coward

I laughed.

Me: Gentleman.

Ma Belle: Debatable

I stared at the message for a long moment.