Page 70 of Intoxicated
“If you really think I’m such a terrible person…” I almost slip off my stool. My sandal catches me before my fall – or before Drew can leap forward and catch me. “Then what makes you think I still wouldn’t fool around with you on the side? Like you said, I’m great in bed.”
“Excuse me. It takes two to have great sex. Give me some credit.”
Is that a little smile on his face? How can he not be angry at me? Totally sober me would be in here chopping his balls off. Again. (Yes, yes, and we know how that ends. The more balls I filet, the more I gotta fuck, fuck, fuck.)
“You’ve got your goals,” Drew says. “I’ve got mine. At some point, they’ll diverge. Sex won’t keep us together forever.”
Why am I slumping so badly against this countertop? It’s as if the weight of his words press down upon my back, threatening to cut off my air supply. Only this is worse than when I put his hand around my throat when he’s already deep inside of me. It’s one thing to get off on a little erotic asphyxiation in the heat of the moment. It’s quite another to look this monster in the eye and realize he has the power to destroy me. He only has to try hard enough.
“Maybe not,” I say. “Like you said, though, I don’t give a fuck about the men I date. Just because I’m using the next one for money and status, doesn’t mean I don’t want some real sex on the side. I mean, you have to know by now that one of the reasons I’m all over your dick is because you actually know how to use it. Most of the duds in this town don’t know their balls from their ass. They…” I sigh. “Never mind. You don’t want to hear this.”
“I mean, I’m into you stroking my ego. But you’re right. I kinda know that about you. Like you must know by now that I’m infatuated with you.”
“Infatuated,” I repeat. “You’re infatuated with me.”
“What? You want me to lie and say that it’s love?”
“No. God, please, no. Anything but that.”
“Excuse me.” He chuckles. How could he still not be offended? I’m over here trashing his heart. Next, I’ll be trashing his mind. Maybe his body. He really isn’t as good as he thinks he is. Nope. Not at all. “Come on, Cher. I have nothing to gain by playing you any longer. I haven’t been for weeks. Anything that’s been between us since we first had sex has been purely organic. I fool around with you because you’re fun and, like I said, I’m kinda infatuated with you. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure that infatuation will die soon.”
I have no idea what to say. Drew’s words hit my ears, but do they mean a damn thing? What does hemeanwhen he says he’s infatuated with me? That I’m some anomaly that’s pinged his radar? That I’m good in bed? That I make him reevaluate his life and what he wants from it? Or is that his lighthearted way of saying he’s in love with me? Love. God knows he can’t actually be in romantic love with me. In love with my pussy, maybe, but me? I thought he was smarter than that. You don’t fall in love with a mark. That’s not how itworks.No matter how hot, how witty, or how great their genitals are, you don’t fall in love! That’s like cutting off your nose to spite your face! You’re better off going to your rich daddy and saying,“Pound sand, Dad. Donate my inheritance to charity for all I care.”Drew has been doing his disgusting thing long enough that he knows what the repercussions are.
So does that mean it’sreal?He knows better. He should know better, anyway. Like I don’t fall in love with the men I’m using, he’s not falling in love with the women he’s destroying.
Actually, maybe it’s not real. Maybe he really is simply “infatuated” with me and waiting for the fancy to pass. Yet that also means he’s no longer working me. If he’s allowing himself to fall into a flight of fancy with my pussy at the helm, then that means he has nothing to lose. No money. No reputation. His only end game with me is to survive our encounters. Whether I’m sucking him dry or going crazy on his ass.
“I’m not working you,” Drew repeats, as if he can read my mind. “I don’t know what it is you and I have, if anything, but I’m not receiving money in exchange for it. I don’t have nefarious plans to break your heart or dump you in the middle of nowhere. We’re only hanging out and having sex. Now, what you’re planning to do tome…”
It may sound overly defensive of me, but I can’t help but say, “I’m not using you, either. Honestly rather put out that you paid my rent without asking me.”
He grins. “Would you have ‘let’ me?”
“Absolutely not. Because that implies this is…” I puff out my cheeks, hands meeting my hips. “A means to an end. I don’t think of it that way.”
His approach doesn’t go unnoticed, yet my senses have dissociated enough that I barely recognize the moment his breath meets my cheek and his hand takes mine. “So neither of us are playing the other or going through with meeting up for the sake of money or gifts. Strange. It’s almost like…” My senses return to my body his lips lightly graze my cheek. Here comes the tingles. The shudders. The sensations of physical touch as they light up my fucking life. “We’re a casual couple having a bit of fun until something happens.”
“Something?” I duck out of his grasp, my heart aflutter and my mind struggling to make sense of what I’m feeling. Drew Benton is not my boyfriend. We’re not on track to get married. Even if his family would approve of me, he’s too much of a younger playboy, and I’m too independent. I don’t give a fuck if he’s richer than half the men I’ve dated. I don’t care if he has a body from God and the stamina to go for twelve hours straight. Drew can be the funniest man on Earth. We’re nottogether.This is casual. A fling. When it’s over, I’ll look back on it and wonder if the good dick was worth it. That’s it. Please, God, let that be it.
I’m not ready for more. I’m notmeantfor more.
“Either we’ll go our separate ways for one reason or another… or things continue down a course that looks like those love stories you see on TV.”
Is that supposed to be funny? Supposed to make me feel better? I bet he thinks he’s soooo cheeky, implying that either he or I will be in this for the long haul.
“I thought that’s what we were cool with.” Drew shrugs. He’s close enough that I feel the brush of his arm against mine. Why are there so manyshiversin me right now? Why do I want to scream in sexual frustration? This guy’s hot, but he’s not so hot that I would set aside my fucking dignity for another lay. I don’t want him panting on top of me and spanking my ass a little. I want to talk. I want to remember why I hate him so much and why we would never work out, not in my girlish dreams. The more I’m around him, the more I forget. I forget my independence and my goals for the rest of my life. None of them include a guy like Drew. They don’t include any guys at all! I barely include visions of my dad at Christmastime in these dreams for my life!
Drew is still waiting for a response. I take refuge against his island counter. I may be trapped, but at least for a few seconds… I’m away fromhim.
Although I expected him to follow me, he stays a few feet away, where I had been standing only a second before. “Or is this it?” he asks. “You’re mad again, because you won’t listen for two damn minutes? I’ve already told you my piece. Jason Rothchild is tenacious, but I have the authority to turn down clients if I think it’s hopeless and a waste of their money.”
“Only because I figured out what you were doing before you had a chance to do your worst.” That implies he would’ve had a chance at all. I don’t think so.
“Nah. That’s not the only reason.” Drew turns toward me again. It’s like he’s laid everything out on the counter behind me. Or across that broad chest – that broad,muscularchest infuriatingly strapped within that tight T-shirt. See? Even when I’m mad at him, I can’t stop thinking about humping his bones. The man is a nuisance. A public nuisance. “I know when I’ve met my match.”
There are about five different interpretations for that blasted line. His match? The spark that will light him on fire? The only woman on this planet who could foil his nefarious plans?
The girl who has finally stolen his heart?
