Who hurt you?

My parents.

How?

They died.

I unexpectedly tear up and I quickly sign off so I can get offline before he replies. I don’t want to get into this; I don’t know why I even brought it up.

I’m tired,

Goodnight Ed,

Xoxo

I put my head back against the wall as the sweat runs down between my breasts.

I’m in the sauna at the work gym, it’s 8 p.m. on Wednesday night.

This week has been long and I just want it to be Friday already. I’m not even going to the stupid Christmas party tomorrow night—not feeling very jolly.

This time of year is always shitty. Christmas is the climax that reminds me of what I don’t have. But I get solace knowing that I’ll wake up the day after Christmas Day and the weight of the world will be gone and I’ll feel myself again; I always do. I just wish I could blink and be at that day.

The door opens and Elliot walks in wearing only a towel. “Hey.” He takes a seat opposite me.

Shit.

“Hi.”

He stays silent and I feel the air around me begin to circle with energy.

There’s a sexual chemistry between us that I can’t deny.

He inhales and puts his head back against the wall, and from my peripheral vision his muscles begin to taunt me.

Shit.

For fifteen minutes we sit in silence.

He’s acting completely cool and normal, as if we didn’t have those kisses in the club.

As if he’s forgotten all about the things he said to me. Did it even happen or did I dream the entire thing?

With every minute that passes, my anger rises inside of me, until I can’t stand it anymore. My inner rubber band snaps in a spectacular fashion.

“What is your problem?” I spit.

He gives me a slow, sexy smile . . . Damn it.

He won.

“You know, I don’t care if you win this stupid fucking game,” I whisper.

He watches me intently.

“And I don’t care if you slept with ten models on Saturday night.”

Amusement flashes across his face.

“Because I certainly don’t want to sleep with you.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what is that look? Don’t give me that look, Elliot, because I know what you’re doing.”

He smiles and puts his head back against the wall as he closes his eyes. He’s completely unfazed and I internally kick myself.

“What am I doing, Kathryn?” he asks.

Kathryn . . . I’m Kathryn again.

“You’re trying to fuck with my head,” I snap.

“Your head has nothing to do with it. I want to fuck your body.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “Do you have to be so crass?” I whisper angrily.

He shrugs casually. “It’s who I am. If you’re looking for romance, move along.”

I stare at him—where’s the dreamy guy from online? Is it even the same person?

I like Ed a lot fucking better.

“I am moving along,” I say as I tighten my towel.

“Why?”

“Why?” I scoff. “How is that even a question?”

“I have something you want, you have something I want. We could help each other.”

“You mean, be each other’s booty call.”

He smiles as he closes his eyes again. “No.”

“No what?”

“Well, a booty call is coming quick after a night out.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.

He sits forward and puts his hands on my thighs and spreads my legs. “I’m talking about spreading you out and eating you up.”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

“And riding you so hard for hours that you won’t remember anyone before me.”

Our eyes are locked.

“And you’ll be wet, and full of me.” He grabs a handful of my hair and drags my face down to him. He puts his mouth to my ear. “And I’ll be full of you.” He whispers as his tongue darts out to lick my face. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his thick tongue.

Dear God.

Goosebumps scatter up my arms.

He releases me and sits up as if completely detached. “Take your time and think about it. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and a lot of women can’t handle it.”

“Think about what?” I ask.

“I don’t do things in halves, I don’t do relationships, and I most definitely don’t share.”

“What do you do?” I whisper.

“I can fuck you like nobody has before.”

The air crackles between us.

“Make up your mind, because if we do this, we do it hard.” He drops to his knees between my legs and licks up the length of my inner thigh. I watch him, transfixed.

Fucking hell . . .

He flicks his tongue up my thigh as his eyes hold mine and I glance at the door. What if someone comes in and sees him on his knees doing this?

“You want sex with no strings?” I whisper.

“Yes.” With one last open-mouthed kiss on my bikini bottoms over my sex, he stands. “I want a consensual arrangement.”

My insides begin to melt.

“Will we see other people?” I ask.

“No.”

“Why would I do that?”

His eyes hold mine. “Because it’s the only way you can have me.”

Damn it, how does he know?

He leans down, cups my face in his hand and kisses me softly, with just the right amount of suction. “You know how to reach me.”

He walks out of the door and doesn’t look back, and the door closes behind him.

I close my eyes as I try to control my breathing.

Holy fucking fuck.

Chapter 8

I push the food around my plate with my fork.

“I said, don’t you like it?” Rebecca says as if repeating herself.

“Huh?” I look up in a daze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” I quickly shovel a mouthful in. “Of course I like it. This is my favorite.”

Daniel watches me. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Because you’ve hardly said two words since you got home.”

“Tired, I guess.” I shrug, not wanting to tell them the news that Elliot Miles licked my thigh in the sauna and wants sex with no strings and I’m not allowed to see anyone else and he has a big dick and this whole month is turning into a fucking disaster.

“Have you heard from Elliot?” Rebecca asks.

I shake my head. “No,” I lie. I’m embarrassed about his indecent proposal. I don’t want to have to explain the situation because, quite frankly, I don’t understand it myself.

“What about your online crush, Edgar?” Daniel asks.

“No.” I chew my food. “I haven’t spoken to him either.”

I’m lying up a storm here tonight.

Why wouldn’t I? When Edgar told me that it wasn’t a grand love affair and that it was just a horizontal crush—boy, he wasn’t lying. It’s not even a steamy affair . . . it’s a business transaction of seminal fluid.

“He’s an ass,” Daniel replies. “This is why you’re down.”

“I’m not down,” I huff. “Elliot Miles is nothing to me.”

Okay, maybe a little down.

When Elliot told me he wanted me, for a moment there it was exciting and new and a way to get myself out of this rut. Hell, putting ice down his pants was the highlight of my year. But now that I know that he sees me as a walking vagina . . . his crush has lost its shine.

And what’s worse, I’m actually considering it. I know it’s stupid, I know that he’s going to turn out to be an asshole and that I’m probably going to get fired, or hurt.

Worse still, both.

I remember back to the sauna, with him on his knees between my legs, and I get a flutter in my stomach, but he’s just so . . .

He makes me feel something, and even if it’s bad, it’s still a feeling.