a naïve woman, so don’t try to make me think you are one.”
Oh, wow . If he only knew. My experiences with sex ranged from disappointing to downright awkward, up to and including Donald Sloan, the man I had slept with on and off for two years, the man I had thought at one point I wanted to marry and the man who knew less about sex than I did. What I thought were the facts about sex, I had heard from girlfriends or read in Cosmo.
I huffed, trying to show irritation equal to his, though what I felt was anything but irritation. “I’m not trying to make you think anything at all.”
His dark eyes glowered. “You think Drake and I share locker room stories? Like a couple of teenagers?”
I couldn’t imagine the sophisticated Drake Lockhart doing such a thing. Feeling silly, I turned my head and rubbed my hand up and down my opposite arm. “Of course not.”
But refusing to look at him didn’t resolve my dilemma. Somehow, for the sake of my own self-respect and my continued good reputation with Lockhart Concepts, I had to put things back on an even keel. Yet, as surely as my common sense knew that was what I needed to do, another part of me was ridiculously excited by his making what he wanted with me unabashedly clear.
“I’m not a game player, Miranda. I don’t have time for it. You’ve got the same itch as me. I can tell. We’re two grown people. So, baby, let’s don’t waste time.”
Oh, God . Did he know where my head had been all-day? Such frankness was as intimidating as it was arousing, but I had to brake this runaway train. I had to stop him and myself both. With a deep, but unsteady breath, I faced him. “Listen, I don’t do recreational sex. I just don’t.”
He tilted his head to the right, his eyes squinted. “Why?”
Oh, hell . I was losing ground. Now, not only was I ready to ignite and so wet that my inner thighs and the lacy tops of my thigh-high stockings were slick, I was on the verge of panic. “It’s risky and demeaning. And unsatisfying.” To my own ears, my voice sounded as if I were barking in a well.
“Then you’ve hooked up with the wrong partners. I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way. And you won’t go away unsatisfied. That, I promise you.”
He said that matter-of-factly in that raspy, devastating voice. Oh, he could deliver on that promise all right. I had not one shred of doubt. But how could we be having this intimate conversation so casually when we scarcely knew each other? And I cringed at the expression “hooked up.” It reminded me too much of the episode after which I truly had given up recreational sex.
“You know what? I’ve always hated that expression, hook-up . It sounds like dogs in heat. I don’t expect a lifetime commitment, but to me, sex has to have some meaning.”
“I hear you. It’s better to engage on more than one level.” His posture relaxed and he opened his palms. “Look, Miranda, I’d love to ply you with wine and smother you with roses. But as it is, I’m short on time. I’ve got to be back in Midland tomorrow.” He planted his hands on his hips again and gave me that smirky grin and a wink. “But I do have time to make you come a dozen times.”
Oh. My. God, my inner voice exclaimed. That is so not cute. Could he be any more obnoxious? What are you going to do?
My immediate inclination was to roast him with a caustic remark, stalk off and leave him standing, but I couldn’t do that without creating an incident. He and I were the only people on the twentieth floor of a high-rise building and I was the person with all the keys. Was I going to walk off and leave him here? No, I wasn’t. If I ever wanted to work for Lockhart Concepts again, I could not anger or embarrass one of the CEO’s friends and customers. But how could I tactfully make him understand that sex with me was not part of the deal on a condo in Skyline?
Beyond all of that, in my limited experience, more than half the time, I had never come at
Oh, wow . If he only knew. My experiences with sex ranged from disappointing to downright awkward, up to and including Donald Sloan, the man I had slept with on and off for two years, the man I had thought at one point I wanted to marry and the man who knew less about sex than I did. What I thought were the facts about sex, I had heard from girlfriends or read in Cosmo.
I huffed, trying to show irritation equal to his, though what I felt was anything but irritation. “I’m not trying to make you think anything at all.”
His dark eyes glowered. “You think Drake and I share locker room stories? Like a couple of teenagers?”
I couldn’t imagine the sophisticated Drake Lockhart doing such a thing. Feeling silly, I turned my head and rubbed my hand up and down my opposite arm. “Of course not.”
But refusing to look at him didn’t resolve my dilemma. Somehow, for the sake of my own self-respect and my continued good reputation with Lockhart Concepts, I had to put things back on an even keel. Yet, as surely as my common sense knew that was what I needed to do, another part of me was ridiculously excited by his making what he wanted with me unabashedly clear.
“I’m not a game player, Miranda. I don’t have time for it. You’ve got the same itch as me. I can tell. We’re two grown people. So, baby, let’s don’t waste time.”
Oh, God . Did he know where my head had been all-day? Such frankness was as intimidating as it was arousing, but I had to brake this runaway train. I had to stop him and myself both. With a deep, but unsteady breath, I faced him. “Listen, I don’t do recreational sex. I just don’t.”
He tilted his head to the right, his eyes squinted. “Why?”
Oh, hell . I was losing ground. Now, not only was I ready to ignite and so wet that my inner thighs and the lacy tops of my thigh-high stockings were slick, I was on the verge of panic. “It’s risky and demeaning. And unsatisfying.” To my own ears, my voice sounded as if I were barking in a well.
“Then you’ve hooked up with the wrong partners. I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way. And you won’t go away unsatisfied. That, I promise you.”
He said that matter-of-factly in that raspy, devastating voice. Oh, he could deliver on that promise all right. I had not one shred of doubt. But how could we be having this intimate conversation so casually when we scarcely knew each other? And I cringed at the expression “hooked up.” It reminded me too much of the episode after which I truly had given up recreational sex.
“You know what? I’ve always hated that expression, hook-up . It sounds like dogs in heat. I don’t expect a lifetime commitment, but to me, sex has to have some meaning.”
“I hear you. It’s better to engage on more than one level.” His posture relaxed and he opened his palms. “Look, Miranda, I’d love to ply you with wine and smother you with roses. But as it is, I’m short on time. I’ve got to be back in Midland tomorrow.” He planted his hands on his hips again and gave me that smirky grin and a wink. “But I do have time to make you come a dozen times.”
Oh. My. God, my inner voice exclaimed. That is so not cute. Could he be any more obnoxious? What are you going to do?
My immediate inclination was to roast him with a caustic remark, stalk off and leave him standing, but I couldn’t do that without creating an incident. He and I were the only people on the twentieth floor of a high-rise building and I was the person with all the keys. Was I going to walk off and leave him here? No, I wasn’t. If I ever wanted to work for Lockhart Concepts again, I could not anger or embarrass one of the CEO’s friends and customers. But how could I tactfully make him understand that sex with me was not part of the deal on a condo in Skyline?
Beyond all of that, in my limited experience, more than half the time, I had never come at
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