Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
So why the fuck was I worried she was going to say this was a one-time thing?
Finally, she pushed out what she’d been holding on to. “I know I said I don’t have sex on the first date, and I don’t, but . . .”
Oh. I let out a knowing laugh. “Not on the second date either, huh?”
She shook her head. “I don’t sleep with a guy,” she turned and set her nervous gaze on mine, “until I’m in love with him.”
I froze, and a million thoughts darted through my brain in that moment, but only a single word could escape my lips. “Oh.”
It was clear she was waiting for more from me, but what the fuck was I supposed to say? I was willing to explore more with her, but love?
That wasn’t going to happen.
Getting involved with her would be cruel—I’d just be leading her on.
“Well, full disclosure,” I said, “I don’t really do ‘love.’”
She looked dubious. “What do you mean, you don’t do ‘love?’”
My post orgasm brain left me unfiltered. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I don’t have time for it.”
It was like I told her I only wanted to invest in GameStop. “I’m sorry, you don’t have time for it? Who doesn’t have time for love?”
I didn’t like how judgmental she was being, even if part of me worried she had a point. “Seriously, I don’t have time for it.” I mashed the pillow under my head and frowned. I needed to be truthful and set expectations. “Really, I don’t have any interest in it. Maybe you think that makes me a dick, but I’m being honest here. I don’t want or need romance.”
Charlotte’s mouth hung open as she processed my statement.
Then confusion narrowed her eyes. “Okay, why’d you ask me for a second date?” Disgust abruptly swept through her face. “Oh, I gotcha. You’ll pretend you’re interested until you close the deal, and then you’ll ghost me.”
Irritation heated me up, but it was partially self-directed. I understood that it sounded bad, but . . . “That wasn’t what I was going to do.”
She didn’t believe a word of it, judging by the way she sat up, fished her bra from the tangled sheets, and hurried to put it on.
“Okay, just wait a minute. Let me explain.”
Um, how are you going to do that? You don’t even know why you asked her for a second date.
She turned to look at me over her shoulder, waiting impatiently for me to continue. I scratched the center of my forehead, willing the words to come.
“I don’t date,” I said. “Not in the traditional way, at least. I do better when my relationships are,” I searched for the right word, “transactional.”
“Transactional,” she repeated, and her tone turned bitter. “Nice.”
“It’s better that way,” I admitted. “The relationships in my past were complicated.” How much detail was I supposed to give her? “When I was in New York, all I cared about was my job. I was too focused on that to do the things I needed to do, so every one of my relationships suffered. Not just the romantic ones, either.”
She wasn’t convinced. “But you’re not in New York anymore.”
I reached down and pulled up my pants. “It’s not going to be any different here.”
“You don’t know that.” She said it like a child trying to reason to get what they wanted.
I finished buttoning my pants and gave her the most direct look I possessed. “I don’t want it to be any different here. It’s better to not get attached to me, because ultimately, I’m just going to let you down.”
She blinked, staring at me with disbelief. “Seriously? Do other girls buy that shit?”
“What?”
Charlotte climbed off the bed, snatched up her pants, and shoved her foot into one of the legs. “The idea that you won’t date someone ‘for their own good.’ That you’re—what? Saving them from falling in love with you and getting their heart broken?”
I frowned and got off the bed on the side opposite her. It made me sound like an asshole, but I lifted a hand in surrender. “It’s the truth.”
“Sounds more like an excuse.” She jerked her pants up and did up the fly, and her tone filled with sarcasm. “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, am I right?”
I fucking hated that saying, and my frustration got the better of me. “Some people don’t need love in a relationship to feel fulfilled. In fact, some people don’t even need love to have sex.”
Her shoulders tensed, and she drew in a sharp breath. I hadn’t meant to be so cutting, and so my words sliced us both. And while the bed was a physical divide between us, it suddenly felt wider than a football field.
“Well,” she said, yanking her shirt over her head, “I do.”