Page 4 of Ring Me

For a minute, I wanted to ask him a selfish question—did he not worry I might fall in love with him? But I shook the thought away as fast as it came. No strings. Just sex. That would be our deal. Just like we'd discussed online in our late-hour messages.

“Let's set a safe word,” he said.

“I thought about that. Subway.” There weren't any in Nashville. Their lack of existence was appropriate; it served as a sad, mood-sobering word if our roleplay got out of hand.

Conner didn't question my choice. “And a word to signal we're in a scene.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “I hadn't thought about a signal for that. Good call. Can you pick something?”

“Neptune. I doubt we'll be talking about planets or the king of the sea in each other's presence.”

A tiny, nervous giggle escaped me. “Is now a bad time to tell you about my Little Mermaid obsession?”

“I'm an Aladdin fan, myself.”

“Noted.” Shifting my legs, I crossed my ankles, feet kicking back and forth. “So... what's next? Do we just... I mean...”

“I figured you'd want that drink I promised, first.”

“God, yes,” I laughed.

When he pushed himself to his feet, the chair groaned, as if it was relieved to be free of Conner's heavy, muscular body. With his back turned to me, I took the opportunity to study him closer.

Blue denim jeans strained over the shapely curve of his hamstrings and quads, highlighting his delicious ass. I had a weakness for 'gym rats' as my friend Aubrey so snarkily called them. But sue me—I thought men who lifted weights were hot. Conner sure was. That was part of my early interest in him when we began chatting online; he'd sent a few photos at my request, and among them had been a gym selfie.

The crack of a bottle cap being twisted open startled me. “Gin alright?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder, showing me the tiny bottle of Bombay Sapphire he'd pulled from the mini bar.

“I love gin.”

“Lotta people don't,” he chuckled, filling two glasses, then adding some fizzing tonic. “They think it tastes like pine needles.”

“I don't trust the opinion of someone dumb enough to chew on a pine tree.”

Grinning with clear appreciation, Conner came back, handing me a glass. I expected him to sit in the chair against the wall. Instead, he pulled it forward, erasing the distance between us. When he sat down, his spread knees blocked me in on either side of the bed. His head was level with mine. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I replied, my voice breaking. I tapped my glass on his, then tilted my head back so I could drink over half my gin and tonic in one breath.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You're either dehydrated, or desperate to get drunk.”

“A little of both,” I admitted. Wiping my mouth, I stared at my lap. It was hard to look him in the eye when he was so close I could smell him. Brown sugar and oranges, for the record. And a hint of juniper from the gin. “I've never done anything like this before. I can't pretend I'm not freaking out a little.”

“Then don't pretend. Use it.”

I watched him from beneath the fringe of my thick eyelashes. His face was flat. Emotionless. No, I thought, looking closer. There's arousal in his eyes. He's excited, like I am, he's just not squirming all over the place. Conner had more control than me. I'd been right to choose him for this meet-up.

He'd come off as calm, even reserved, in our talks. That was what I needed—someone who could fulfill my fantasy of being taken by a cocky, domineering beast of a man.

Why was I hesitating now?

He reached out, pulling my glass from my tight grip. “There's still another mouthful in there,” I argued.

“I know.” He placed it carefully on the dresser nearby, then put his glass next to mine. “Cherry, I'm not going to do anything with you if you're wasted. I refuse to get involved with someone who doesn't want to be present in the moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you're drunk, you can't make clear choices.” He folded his hands under his chin, covering his mouth, watching me intensely. “To be blunt, I never, ever fuck drunk girls.”

My whole body tensed when he said fuck. I've got a fantastic imagination, and it worked against me now, creating vivid images in my brain of Conner bending me over the bed and railing me with his thick, rigid cock. I swallowed loudly. “You're right. I don't want to do anything without knowing I'm really okay with it.”

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