Page 24 of Stags

“Really?”

He looked forward, drawing in a breath, nodding. “Might make me hold back, and I can tell that’s not what you want from me.” A pause. “Also, your red leaf earring?”

She touched it, running her fingers over it. She’d put it in before coming downstairs to the bar.

“You should know I had a vasectomy.”

She was startled. She looked at him sharply, but he was staring forward, not at her. “Are you… do you have a mate? A wife? A pair bond?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “Anyway, I wouldn’t… you don’t have to trust me about that. We’ll still be careful, but I thought it might reassure you—”

“Why?” she said.

He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, he never said it. He let out air, his chest deflating. “Let’s not do that either,” he said eventually, in a thoughtful voice. “We wouldn’t do that in the field.”

“Not do what? Not talk about ourselves at all?” Her voice was quiet. She wasn’t sure if she liked that, actually.

The elevator door opened.

He gestured for her to go ahead.

She left the elevator. He came after her. His large hand brushed her back again as he steered her to the right. They walked down the hallway.

At his door, he opened it, and they went inside together.

He turned on the light.

His room was bigger than hers. He had a little kitchenette tucked into one corner. She stepped inside, looking around. “So, no personal information, that’s what you’re saying? Just meeting each other like strangers?”

“Why me?”

She turned around to face him.

He was standing just inside the door.

“You won’t tell me anything about yourself,” she said. “Why should I tell you?” Besides, he hadn’t seemed insecure downstairs. Why was he getting that way now? She didn’t like it as much. She didn’t want to reassure him. She wanted him to reassure her.

Nervousness began to rise in her.

He took a step towards her. “You could have had anyone you wanted.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re young and lovely and so perfect,” he said, closing in on her. “You’re a stag’s wet dream of a rut.”

She bit down on her lip, shaking her head.

“Too vulgar?” he said. “You know what we’re about to do, don’t you?”

“N-not too vulgar,” she whispered. “You like me, but that doesn’t mean… it’s why I chose you. Because you want me.”

“Anyone would want you.”

She wanted that to be true, so she didn’t contradict him. She lifted one of her shoulders. “Well, you’re very…” She looked at his antlers. “Rugged.”

He smirked, reaching up to slide his fingers over her cheek. He cupped her there with his palm. His hand was so big that her face was engulfed. She let out a breath, and it hitched. He bent down, so that their noses were nearly touching. “You like the look of me, little doe? Truly?”

“Obviously,” she gasped.

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