Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Not much of a drinker, she took a tiny sip of red wine to fortify herself and another undignified slurp of pasta. Lady and the Tramp had it so wrong—this was the least romantic meal on the face of the planet. Then again, she wasn’t exactly striving for romance here, so it was best to get those kinds of thoughts out of her head right now.
“Tell me about the guidelines,” Brand unexpectedly requested, and she blinked, a little surprised.
“What do you mean?” she hedged, and his icy eyes snapped impatiently.
“You know what I mean, Lia.” He so rarely used her name that it took her aback to hear it emerge from his mouth. “These so-called rules for a successful fling that you seem to be adhering to so religiously.”
“You should thank me for sticking to the rules. Things can get messy very quickly without rules, Brand.”
“You don’t fucking have to tell me that, sunshine. I’ve been following rules most of my life. I’d just like to know what they are so that I know when I’m not overstepping. Attempting to have a decent conversation is clearly making you uncomfortable, which means that I’m probably breaching one of your sacred rules, so how about letting me know what the fuck they are?”
“They’re pretty basic,” she said. “The usual stuff. Like—um—no giving or receiving gifts. I mean, that’s an obvious one, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” He didn’t sound convinced, but she ignored him and continued hesitantly.
“And not leaving stuff behind. Like clothing and things. It would feel too intimate. And no sleeping over. That’s a big no-no. I did have no introductions to the family down as well, but that horse has pretty much bolted from the barn.”
“Why wouldn’t you want me to meet your family?” He seemed offended. “I’m a likable guy.”
“Of course you are. But introducing your fling to your parents is a stupid thing to do—they’d have expectations. But I wasn’t the one who introduced you. You met them in your capacity as Mason and Daisy’s friend, so that’s a bullet dodged, I suppose. And naturally, you wouldn’t introduce me to your family and friends.”
“Naturally.” Again, he sounded offended. Or maybe defensive. She wasn’t sure which. His reaction just seemed . . . off. And she couldn’t pinpoint why. She’d expected his agreement, even approval, on these stipulations. But she couldn’t get an accurate read on his mood at all.
“Also, it’s good to remind yourself, when you go into something like this, that there’s an expiration date. It’s going to end. So better to maintain an emotional and intellectual distance. I like you, but I don’t want to find myself liking you more than I already do.”
“And that’s why you won’t allow yourself to have a conversation with me? In case, God forbid, you find yourself liking me more?”
Or loving you. She kept the words unspoken and stared at him mutely, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
“It would complicate things if we became friends.”
“Well, I thought we were friends and I fucking like you, Lia. Sue me. I wouldn’t be attracted to you if I didn’t like you!”
“You barely knew me the first time we did it, Brand,” she reminded him, and his face darkened.
“That doesn’t count,” he said, and she tilted her head as she tried to figure him out.
“Why not?”
“It just doesn’t. I like you now. I consider you a friend. Sorry for fucking up your rules!”
Sam didn’t know why he was so pissed off. He just was. She wouldn’t talk to him because she didn’t want to be his friend? What in the actual fuck? He was outrageously offended by that, and he had no clue why. So what if he’d never been friends with any of his past lovers? They’d all just served an obvious purpose. He fucked them a few times and then he moved on. No friendship required. Just an understanding that it was an extremely finite, mutually pleasurable arrangement. Still, sometimes things tended to get messy, and on the surface Lia’s rules made sense. In fact, he would have been thrilled if some of his former partners had adopted the same mind-set.
But inexplicably, all Sam wanted to do was find a hard copy of her fucking rules and tear them the hell up, right in front of her. Then burn the pieces and piss on them to put out the fire.
“Any other rules I need to be cognizant of?” he asked tightly, and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth before nodding.
“No sleeping over, as you know. And no postcoital cuddling.”
Postcoital? How fucking clinical that sounded. Well, that certainly explained why she dashed out of his arms every time they finished.
Sam wasn’t a cuddler, he didn’t give a fuck about cuddling . . . but what if he wanted to hold her close for easy access in case he got horny again? She obviously hadn’t considered that, which was incredibly selfish of her. And what if he fell asleep for a brief moment while he was holding her? What if she did? Sex was a natural soporific; these considerations were well within the realm of possibility.