Page 15 of One Night Only

“I’m messy and sometimes even unreliable. But not fragile.” I don’t know why I say it with such vehemence. Or why it’s so important that he sees me as strong.

The mood goes from humorous to charged.

Leaning forward, he runs his fingers over my knuckles. Over and over, in mindless trails, as if that’s all he can allow himself. “You’re not to be treated as if you’re fragile. Got it.” His smilechases away the sudden clamor of tears in my throat. “But if youwere, it’s okay.”

“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head.

He nods, pats the back of my hand in an avuncular fashion that I hate, and takes the deck of cards from me. I’m regretting my outburst when he says, “Ready?”

At least he’s not backing out.

I nod. Several alarms go off in my head, warning me I’m getting too invested in his opinion of me. But I shove it aside.

He’s my one-night Valentine, and I won’t let anything ruin this for me.

Chapter Ten

Annika

I picka card from the deck and hand it to Dr. Cross.

He nudges his glasses up his nose, gives me a rakish grin that should come with a XXX rating, and reads the prompt. “What are you attracted to that you know isn’t good for you?”

The question slaps me in the face. “You,” I blurt out, a little put-out.

He considers me over the rim of his glasses. “Ouch,” he says, rubbing his large hand over his chest.

“Why areyousaying ouch?” I demand, popping a chocolate-covered coffee bean into my mouth.

“The question specified a certain quality that isn’t good for you. Not a whole person,” he explains, sounding as attacked as I feel.

The rich dark flavor of the chocolate and the bitterness of the coffee bean hit me slowly, making me moan.

He fidgets, and it’s a struggle for me to stop my eyes from drifting down his chest. “If you don’t answer the question properly, that’s a forfeit too,” he declares.

“Fine,” I say, tilting my head to the right as if to get a better view of him. “Confidence. Authority. Competence. Sex appeal by the buckets. Large hands. Broad shoulders. Intelligent eyes. Rough, gravelly voice. Caring manner. Easy kindness.” I exhale roughly, realizing only as I list them out how many qualities there are to like about him. Not really surprising that I’m here with him. “Want me to go on?”

Chest expanding, he puts the card in a neat little pile on top of the lid. His movements are sharp and jerky.

I bounce my foot on the floor, nerves twisting me into a ball of anxiety. It’s one thing to know that you’re the lesser one—by any number of arbitrary attributes—in a relationship. Quite another to be the one who lists them out.

Not a relationship…I remind myself for the thousandth time.

When he looks up, his pupils are a pure stormy grey. “You can’t see all that in me.”

“Must say it like I sees it,” I say, chewing on my lower lip.

“And it’s not good for you?”

There’s an edge to his tone that makes me straighten. Then it sinks in, and I realize he’s got me good. “The rules say I have to answer the prompt. Not write a thesis on it.”

A line forms between his brows. I want to smudge it with my finger, kiss it away.

He looks like he wants to argue further but drops it. “My turn then.” He picks up a card and hands it to me.

My pulse speeds up. “What instantly makes someone hot in your eyes?”

Those gray eyes hold me captive effortlessly. “Authenticity.”

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