Page 71 of Intoxicated
I need to get my mind off that thinking. I amnothis match. Not in that way. Maybe I’m smart or clever enough to destroy his business, but I’m not in this game to make him fall in love with me. When I first met him, before I knew what he was really about, I would’ve played at love to get what I needed out of him. That’s my real MO. Now, though? That’s too dangerous. Having him genuinely in love with me could prove to be my own downfall.
Why? I don’t know. I only know that I’m not interested in finding out.
“Think what you want about me,” Drew says, “but I thought I should say something. I’m already putting plans into motion to change my line of work. Rothchild is gonna be the last guy I talk to. Technically, you were my last job.” He’s only three inches away now. “Not sure what I’m going to do next. I was half-serious about that idea to go into a matchmaking service. Maybe I’ll look into that. Hey, I’m privileged enough to not be too worried, but if there’s anything I’ve learned these past few weeks, it’s that I don’t need to be in the revenge business anymore. I’m too old for that shit. Time to move onto something else. Something that uses my time more productively.”
Whatever this spiel is supposed to accomplish, my reaction is to say, “I still don’t quite believe you.”
“That’s fine. As long as you’re not angry. Being so angry all the time isn’t good for you.”
I snort. “It’s not my favorite thing to feel.”
“So, are we good?”
There’s still one thing weighing on my mind. Might as well get it out of the way now. “Did you really drive down here when you found out I knew about your meeting with Jason?”
“Only when you weren’t answering your phone. What? Did you think I’d let you stew in your rage long enough to come up with a diabolical plan against me? I value my life way too much. Shit, I value the time we’ve spent together a little too much.”
‘What does that mean, exactly?”
Our gazes lock. Although his is unwavering, I fight the urge to look away again. “It means I like you, Cher. Does it have to mean anything more than that?”
He doesn’t love me. Helikesme.
Do you realize no guy has ever said that to me before? They always jump from “you’re interesting” or “you’re fun” to“I fucking love you, Cher. Marry me, baby.”The men I date have no damn chill. Including the ones not looking for a Missus soon fall into the trap of pledging their hearts to me, assuming I’ve strung them along enough. (Some of them fall faster than others, though. The longest I worked a guy to get him to love me was about four months. Most only take half that time of constant dates.) But like? A guy realizing that we might have something, but it’s not going to happen overnight… that’s as rare as a potential mother-in-law fawning over me. I have no idea how to react. Like. Love. Those two are so fundamentally different, yet one has the power to transform into the other. Like blossoming into love is a tale as old as time. Love into like? That’s a death knell. Once you hit love, there’s no going back. Watching men bend over to hit that like their gas pedals hit sixty in three seconds means I know theirrealinfatuations are being misconstrued as love. That’s when I leave. That’s when I pack it in and get the hell out while I still can.
Like. Drew Bentonlikesme. That’s like saying,“Let’s take this slow, hon.”Our sex life may be anything but slow, but emotions have the chance to catch up if we let them.
“Do you mean that?” I ask. “Youlikeme?”
“Is that so hard to believe? I like you enough that I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I value the fun we have together. I’m not gonna give you credit for changing my life or anything, but I admit that since I’ve met you, I’ve had a good, hard think about what kind of man I want to be. Maybe we won’t be talking to each other six months from now, but I think there’s potential here for us to not regret a thing.”
“What in the world do you like about me?” Whispers claim my voice. Is it because I need to swallow more? To wet my tongue? To lick my lips? “I’m not likeable. Even I know that.” I’m that bitch. That harpy. Thatsirenwho steals your husband to get into his pocketbook. I don’t have real friends for a reason. My own family doesn’t like me. I’m charming until I’ve got what I need from you. In my ideal world, I float through life with only myself to rely on. Only me to be my own friend. “You must be crazy.”
Why is Drew laughing? Is this so funny? “You’re hilarious, for one. Even when you’re being a cynical bitch, I can’t help but laugh. I appreciate that viewpoint of the world. Also, uh… you’ve got a great body?”
I roll my eyes. I should have guessed.
When my vision settles on his face again, I witness a curious, analytical look that has me holding my arms to my chest, fingers tapping against my chin as I anticipate his final advance. “What?” I ask. “You need something, Benton?”
“Yes, Lieberman.” He lowers his face toward mine, although he doesn’t go for the kill quite yet. “I need to kiss you. If you’ll let me.”
Of course he’s put that ball in my court! Drew insists on being an infuriating bastard like that. One that I can’t help but lean in to kiss, because damn my body, anddamn my heart.
I didn’t realize I had one until my lips meet his tonight.
