Chapter 19 #2
“Come on,” she says. “Tell me your proposition.”
I take her in, her teasing smile, the way she looks at me like I’m completely fascinating, her sparkling eyes…then my gaze falls to the papers she printed out for me.
“I want a night off from our arrangement. A time-out.”
She sits back in her chair like I just slapped her. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be making me fall in love with you. Much easier for me if you have as many nights off as you like.”
Her words tumble around in my brain, and I realize that what she thinks I’m saying and what I’m trying to communicate are two different things.
“I’m saying I want a night off from trying to prove to you that we’re more than just professional, and a night off from you having to prove to me that you don’t like me like that. ”
“I heard you,” she says, still visibly offended.
I shake my head. “I don’t think you did. I’m saying I’m into you.”
Her cheeks redden and my dick twitches. She’s fucking gorgeous.
“I’m confused,” she confesses.
“I’m saying this badly, but I like you. And I think a part of you might like me too. I’d like a night off when we can stop thinking about Boston and just be ourselves.”
“Are you not being yourself?”
“I’m always a version of myself.” As I say the words, I realize that, although that’s always true, the version I am with Avril is the part that feels closer to the core of who I really am than any other.
“Right,” she says.
“I want a time-out. Anything that happens tonight doesn’t count.”
She laughs a little as she finally realizes what I’m saying. “Oh, you sure do like these shoes. I’ve had them on for twenty minutes and you want to renegotiate.”
“It’s not the shoes,” I say and then I shrug. “Although, they’re great shoes. Never take them off. Ever.”
We both smile at each other across the table, the look laden with so much—warmth, humor, lust.
“A time-out could ruin everything,” she says. “I have more to lose than you do.”
She’s right. I lose nothing from having a time-out. I imagine my hands sliding around her waist and sliding her onto my lap. I imagine her scent as I kiss her neck and her warm skin under my fingertips, and I lengthen against my thigh.
I want her. Not just any woman. It’s Avril I want.
I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve spent so much time together over the past few days.
I’m not sure if it’s the cocktail she gave me the first time we met, or the research she’s presented me with tonight, but she’s special.
I want to stop avoiding all these feelings I have for her. And I think she feels the same way.
Maybe I’m wrong.
I just don’t think so.
“You’re right. You have more to lose. But tomorrow we can pretend tonight didn’t happen.”
“Because you want to get laid tonight?”
I shake my head slowly. “It might be difficult for you to believe, but I don’t have a problem getting laid. If I wanted to just get laid, I could go and do that. I just want to spend the night with you when neither one of us is holding back or dancing around what’s between us.”
“Between us?”
“Is it just in my head?”
“I’m not answering that question,” she says.
“I think you just did.”
“You’re a guy who knows what he’s doing in bed. I won’t deny that.”
“I’m into you,” I say. “And I want to act like I’m into you instead of us both pretending whatever this is between us isn’t happening.”
She sighs. “Boston is really important to me.”
“It’s just a time-out. But I get it. No problem. We can continue to have a nice time here tonight.” I’m not going to pressure her into anything. That’s the last thing I want to do.
“A time-out?”
“You’re right. It’s a bad idea,” I say. “We should keep this simple.”
She nods. “Yeah. Maybe.” She pauses. “But it’s not in your head either.”
My gaze flicks up and meets hers.
I should ignore it, pretend that I never mentioned any kind of time-out.
It was a stupid idea. I like Avril. I want to help her with her Boston project.
I just don’t like messy. I don’t want an angry ex on the warpath around town, telling people I’m not to be trusted.
I’ve survived in New York without that ever happening. I don’t want to ruin that now.
But as she sits across from me now, I can’t think about anything other than how she feels, how she smells, how she tastes.
“I can tell what you’re thinking,” she whispers.
“You have no idea,” I bat back.
“It’s written all over your face.”
There’s no answer to that. Avril has been front and center of my mind since I met her. Maybe I’m not the poker player I thought I was.
She swallows. “We could just wait until Boston is dealt with.”
I nod. “Yes, you’re right.”
Except then things might be different.
“But a time-out…” she says, like she’s thinking aloud. “You’d have to promise to erase anything from this moment from your mind.”
“I’m not sure I could erase anything about you from my mind.” The words are out before I realize what I’ve said.
Our gazes are locked and we sit in silence as our plates are cleared.
“Just tonight,” she says. “And nothing counts. It’s just a time-out.”
I reach across the table for her hand and suddenly I wish we were at Serenissima rather than in the middle of a museum. I wish we were among friends. But then I suppose I wouldn’t have Avril to myself and there’s nothing more valuable than that.
We thread our fingers together.
“Nothing I say or do can be taken and used as evidence against me,” she says.
My heart thunders in my chest. “Agreed.”
“So now what?” she asks.
“Now we enjoy our evening.”
She raises her eyebrows like she was expecting me to throw her over my shoulder, and yes, that will happen later, but right now, I just want us to be us and enjoy our time together without having to be together.
And then we’ll see where the night takes us.