Page 44 of Reckless Love
I must not clear my expression entirely because she stares at me like she’s trying to figure something out.
“What?” I ask. I have to clear my throat because it barely comes out.
“Just wondering what you’re thinking.”
“Let’s figure out what we’re gonna do. This dating thing. I wanted you to move in with me when I bought that house, so whynotmove in?”
She looks at me likecome on now. “I just got my condo. Why would I move in with you?”
“To save money? To avoid your creeper neighbor. To get your parents off your back about Bernard. To getBernardoff your back. It’s not a ridiculous idea.”
“I know we’ve been hanging out more lately and it’s been…nice. Really nice. I’ve missed you so much. My job situation hasn’t changed though. I know I went to the wedding with you…and hung out at your house. But if too many people see us together, it’s going to backfire.” She pauses. “And, I don’t think we’ve fully recovered from what happened. Pretending to be dating—hell, moving in together—it could get confusing.”
I stare at her, waiting for her to keep going. “You’re worried about my feelings.”
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”
When she fell apart in my arms, I thought it was because she felt everything I did, that she wanted me with the same unrelenting desire that never seems to let up. Now, I think she’d just been bottled up too long, too stifled under her parents’ thumb and Bernard’s inability to see past his own dick. If the guy ever made her orgasm, I’d be shocked. She’s never talked about it much, but she mentioned one time that he preferred the missionary position. When I asked her what she preferred, she got a wistful expression and said sometimes she wished she was more adventurous.
I took that to mean their sex life wasn’t very satisfying, and it’s eaten me up, knowing all the ways I could show her aworldof fun.
“I’m not worried, no,” I say quietly.
She seems surprised by that. “Oh. I—I guess I...” She shakes her head and leans forward, her elbows on her knees.
I keep my eyes steady on hers, so I’m not tempted to stare at the creamy expanse of skin, that dip between her breasts that I traced with my tongue that night.
“Then if you’re really okay with it, I’ll keep acting like we’re together with my parents and Bernard.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s fine by me.”
Her brows furrow and I’m not sure if it’s a scoff or a laugh that comes next. “You’re so nonchalant about it.”
I put my hands in my pockets and laugh quietly. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’ll fake date you for the rest of our lives if that makes you happy.”
There’s definitely a laugh from her now. “I’d never ask that of you, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, remember?” I smile at her.
“Right. You’re not worried. Don’t you think yourrealdating life would suffer if you were stuck fake dating me forever?” Her lips pucker as she stares me down.
“I would not be suffering.”
“What does that mean?” She stalks toward me, her finger jabbing into my chest. “You think you could go a week without getting laid to keep pretenses up? Because if we lived together or if word ever got out about us dating, it would really cramp your style.”
I grab her finger and hold it, watching as her mouth parts and her eyes flicker up at mine, uncertain.
“I guess you haven’t noticed that nothing has been going on in that area for a while now.”
“You’re finally getting tired of playing the field?” she rasps.
“Something like that.”
“Well, don’t you think lines might get confusing if we’re together all the time after?—”
“I’m. Not. Worried.”
“Why not?” Her teeth clamp over her bottom lip, sliding over it as her eyes bounce between mine.