Page 52 of Man Seeking Woman

Sitting up, I laid my hands in my lap. “Tell him to settle down, because we have a lot to discuss before he gets any face to face time.”

August chuckled as he yawned, stretching his arms high up over his head. “You're right, we do. But first coffee.” Climbing out of bed, he stretched his arms again, letting out another big yawn. “How do you take it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your coffee, how do you take your coffee?” Laughing, he asked, “What did you think I meant?” A sly smile spread on his face, that fucking dimple collapsed like a sink hole in his cheek, and my heart skipped a beat.

That dimple is going to be the death of me.

“One sugar and cream if you have it,” I said, trying to act casual. But I didn't feel casual at all. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest, I felt like my body was on fire and that the room had dropped into the southern hemisphere, increasing by fifty degrees.

There was something about watching him standing there in a tight white tee-shirt and red basketball shorts that made my entire body light up. The shirt hugged his back, making his muscles pop. He had bed head, and even that looked incredibly sexy on him.

“Cream, huh? So you like sweet, do you also like salty? Because I have something just for that.”

“Oh, what is it?” Peering up at him, my brain was so empty it didn't register his dirty comment at all.

“You don't really need me to explain it, do you?” he asked. Cocking a hard brow, his lips twisted. “Because if you do. . .” Pausing, August went silent.

I assumed he stopped talking because he wanted to give me time to replay the comment in my head. And then it struck me like a freight train.

Dirty dirty man.

My hands became clammy, sticking to the blanket as I tried to rub my palms up and down my thighs to dry them off. There was a nervous twitch in my eye, and I was certain that I probably looked like the crazy librarian from my high school back home.

Her name was Mrs. Fields, she had white hair, and wore thick rimmed glasses that made her eyes the size of saucers. The thing that stood out the most with her was how her face would twist and contort in a way that looked like she had just shit herself if she found a book that had been damaged in the book return.

Not that I blamed her for being upset, but for one, she was dealing with a group of kids, and two, no one except me probably gave a shit about the books anyway.

I'm such a dumb-ass.

“Oh, no, no, I get it.” My eyes shot to his waist, finding the outline of his cock against the fabric.

I knew what I felt against my back, and to be honest, what I felt was far more intimidating than the shadowed piece behind his shorts.

August had made his way to the door, catching the path of my eyes. “Good,” he said, winking and giving me a cheeky smile. “This is going to be more fun than I thought.”

I didn't have a response. How do you respond to that when you know at some point you're going to have sex with someone who was ultimately a total stranger?

One night stands happened on occasion, mostly by accident or poor decisions, with a little alcohol coaxing you along. Relationships came and went, some were intense and emotional, others felt more like a waste of time.

This was different.

The whole pointwasto get pregnant. There was no room for a regular relationship. It was sex, baby, and done. Our entire agreement was based on sex, unprotected, skin on skin, sex.

I could hear August milling around in the apartment, so I stayed right where I was. Smoothing my hair with my hands, I wiped the sleepy crust from my eyes and blew my breath against my palm in an attempt to see how bad it was.

Could be worse,I thought to myself as I looked around the room.

It was the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, a world of difference from my small apartment.

The walls were sage green with light oak wood flooring. A beige area rug was in the center of the room. The kind of rug that's thick with shag and has probably destroyed a vacuum or two.

My mind quickly went to darker thoughts, dirtier thoughts, wondering how many women had possibly been naked on that rug? Maybe even a few homemade porns were created with rug burned knees.

Kay said he didn't have many girlfriends. I wonder why?

Pushing the images away, I checked out the rest of the space. A gentlemen's chest sat against the far wall to my left, and a rustic white dresser was against the wall at the foot of the bed.

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