“If you want.”

“Where shall we go?”

He looks down the street. “There’s a bar over there.”

“Looks good.”

We make our way over to the bar and take a seat at the bench table by the window. It’s eclectic and moody, with a huge bar in the middle.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

He raises an impatient eyebrow. “Such as?”

Gone is the playful and touchy man that was just here. Mr. Mercurial is now in his place.

“A margarita, please.”

Moments later he returns with two drinks, a margarita for me and an amber fluid for him. “Oh, what’s that?” I ask as he sits down at the table.

“Scotch.”

“Hmm, didn’t imagine that you’d be a scotch drinker.”

Amusement flashes across his face. “What did you think I would drink?”

I twist my lips as I think. “The blood of small children.”

He chuckles. “Tempting.”

“Actually, as far as alcohol goes, I would guess Jägerbombs.”

“And why is that?”

“You explode.”

“When have I ever exploded?”

“When my dog barks or makes a mess.”

“Ah yes, Barry the mutt.” He smirks.

I smile and take a sip of my margarita. “Oh, this is good, and don’t say it like that.”

“Say what?”

“Mutt.”

“Why not.”

“It sounds hot.” I smile. “Does things to me. Gives me tingles.”

“Mutt,” he mouths.

I smile goofily. “You should put that on your Tinder profile.”

“What?” he scoffs.

“‘I sound hot when I say the word mutt.’” I widen my eyes, and he chuckles.

I feel a little of our chemistry return.

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” I tell him.

“What’s a good idea?” he asks.

“You can help me write my friends-with-benefits Tinder profile.”

“No.” He screws up his face in disgust.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard of, that’s why. You’ll have every weirdo sex maniac on the planet applying.”

“One can hope.” I smile into my drink.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

“What’s not going to work?”

“You won’t be able to do it. You’re going to fall in love.”

Would that be so terrible?

“No, I won’t,” I lie.

“I know how women like you are wired, Juliet.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “Do you now?” I sip my drink. “For the record, I have had a friends-with-benefits situation before, and it was perfect.”

“When?”

“In college.”

“With whom?”

“My roommate.”

He stares at me as if completely perplexed . . . or maybe it’s because he can sense that I’m lying through my teeth. Well, I’m not really lying. I did have a booty call with my roommate a few times in college, but then he got creepy and I panicked and moved out . . . so yeah, kind of friends-with-benefits-turns-into-serial-killer thingy.

“How long did you see him for?” he asks.

“A few months.”

“How did it end?”

“We mutually decided that we didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“I don’t believe that for a second—no man would give up sleeping with you.”

“Maybe I’m shitty in bed.”

Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be selling the dream to him, you fool?

“Quite the opposite.” His eyes hold mine, and the air swirls between us.

He’s back.

“And what do you want from your man?” he murmurs.

Shit . . . think of a hot answer, and quick!

“I like to be challenged sexually.”

His eyes darken. “Do you . . .”

Just come out and say it.

“That’s why I was interested in doing this friends-with-benefits thing with you.”

He steeples his pointer finger up the side of his face as he leans on his hand. “Go on.”

“Well . . .” I pause as I try to get the wording right in my head. Don’t fuck this up. “You said that you are not looking for a relationship.”

“Correct.”

“You like to dominate in the bedroom.”

He stares at me for a beat before replying, “You’ll get attached.”

I sip my drink. “I think that if anyone is getting attached, it would be you.”

“I can assure you it won’t be me.”

Poor deluded fool.

“Good.” I smile. “That settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“You’re going to be my friend with benefits. There’s no reason we couldn’t have a business arrangement.”

Amusement flashes across his face as he listens. His pointer finger is still up the side of his face as he leans on his hand. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Juliet. I’m not negotiating a body fluid business deal with you.”

Time to play hardball.

I lean in close and put my mouth to his ear. “Are you trying to tell me that you wouldn’t like me on my knees sucking your cock,” I whisper.

His eyes darken. “Not one bit.”

Liar.

“I like to swallow, you know.”

He holds my gaze, and something tells me I’m playing with fire.

“I know you do,” he murmurs.

Every cell in my body is screaming for me to stop, telling me how irresponsible and stupid this is. He wants sex with no strings attached. He’s telling me this straight to my face.

Yet I know that deep down on some level he likes me, even if it’s just a little bit, even if it’s only for one night. I can’t let it go without seeing what there is between us. I know I can handle this.

“I like the way you make me feel, Henley.”

His eyes drop to my lips.

Fuck, sleeping with him is either going to be a major regret or a major achievement.

Either way, a definite heartbreak.

I slide my hand up his muscular quad.

“You could jump over the fence in the middle of the night and have your wicked way with my body and nobody would ever know.”

Fire lights in his eyes, and I know he’s imagining it. “It’s not happening,” he whispers distractedly.

I try to think on my feet. Offer something that I know he wants.

I lean in close again and run my teeth over his earlobe. “Do you want me to beg?”

The door busts open as we kiss, tongues exploring each other, hands in the hair, and off-the-hook chemistry erupting between us.

Shoes are kicked off, his jacket goes flying, and Henley’s lips are locked on mine as he walks me backward toward the bed. We didn’t even make it to his work thing, and I think I may have found his one weakness.

Dirty talk.