Page 40 of The Hookup
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a woman say that. Something happened to him, when he couldn’t handle intimacy. He couldn’t help but be a jerk. It was why he had his stipulations, why he wanted things to be a certain way. It was why he didn’t want a relationship long-term. He could do nice and friendly, be a good listener, a friend even, but if things went deeper, he couldn’t deal with it.
“There’s only one of me.”
“Just so that we’re clear,” she said, suddenly standing an inch taller, “I canhandleit. I work with men who think that because they’re men, and because I’m a woman, that I can’t handle surviving in a man’s world. I can. And I’ve been doing just fine. “
“What does your work have to do with this? With you and me?” He found himself admiring her neat little up do, and wondered whether he would get a chance to take it out later, and see her hair fall around her shoulders.
She crossed her arms, her brown eyes cold as she glowered at him. “I’m not hurt and I’m not mad at you.”
He still didn’t believe her. “Even about me fucking you over the kitchen table?” He asked calmly.
She didn’t flinch that time. Didn’t even bat an eyelid. He swallowed, his eyes falling to her lips, and making him wonder if he could see her tonight. He’d be sure to give her an orgasm or two to make up for the shortfall last time.
“When you fucked me over my table,” she said, her red matte lipstick outlining her lips, giving him ideas. She took a step towards him, her temperament suddenly changing. Where just a moment ago she had been surprised to see him, she seemed to have overcome that quickly. “I can handle your rules, and your arrangement. You don’t do romance, and you don’t want emotional baggage. You don’t have to keep reminding me, and the fact that you do makes me wonder if you’re the one who’s having second thoughts. Maybeyoucan’t handle it, as for me, I really don’t have the time for all that…fuckery, as you say.” She rubbed her fingers together, as if she was flicking some imaginary dust from them.
Most women didn’t talk back like this, most women were just glad he had showed an interest in them at all, and he had assumed, wrongly now that he was getting to know her, that Kay would be the same. But here she was, twisting his balls, telling her he’d treated her like a piece of meat, and that the experience had done nothing for her. More than that, she was turning him on, throwing back at him the crap he threw at her. He suddenly had the urge to take her in to his office and do unspeakable things with her. Things she would enjoy. Of that much he was sure.
“We’re on the same page then,” he managed to say, marveling at the way this woman had managed to give him an erection by just talking. It wasn’t even dirty talk.
“In case you’re in any doubt,” she said, chewing her bottom lip and running a perfectly manicured fingernail over his lapel again. “I like sex as much as any man, it’s the being treated like a piece of meat part that I have an objection too.”
“I heard you the first time,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Maybe what you need,” she said, grinding her words out slowly. “Is a call girl. One of those high-class escorts, the ones who offer massages with extras. I’ve heard there are places for men with money, if you don’t want to get caught in a strip-joint.”
This was not the whimpering, whiny wreck of a woman he had first met. If she’d been like that, he could have given her another pity-fuck, and be done with her. Instead, she seemed to have the upper hand, and he didn’t like that.
A part of him still wondered if it was her bravado talking. Sometimes women put on an act because they liked to manipulate the situation. He still wasn’t sure what to make of her, and despite her bravado, her saying she could handle the way things were between then, he knew that most women weren’t okay with it.
Maybe there was a truth to what she’d said. She probably had balls because she needed them to survive in the line of work she was in, but when it came to matters of the heart, women were soft, and he was sure Kay was no different. In fact, he had yet to meet a woman whose heart was made out of stone. There was only one woman who’d had that title, and it was the bitch he had later discovered was his father’s mistress.
“You’re not a piece of meat,” he said, reaching for her hand and rubbing his thumb over it gently. His other hand slid to the small of her back, and he tugged her towards him, a stirring in his briefs causing his brain to short-circuit. There was something about a woman with red lipstick implying that she had no problem using him just for sex. She was going to give him another boner and all without even touching him. The urge to kiss her overrode his thinking, and he wanted to taste her sweet mouth again. He wanted to lead her into his office and take her on his desk; pleasure her with his tongue first, because women always loved that shit.
“It won’t happen again,” he said, moving closer but fighting the desire to claim her mouth. His lips were a few millimeters from hers, giving her an out. “If you don’t want any of this, I understand.”
“I never said I didn’t want any of this,” she replied. He turned her wrist over and lowered his mouth to it, inhaling orange blossom and jasmine. She didn’t flinch, or retract her hand, and so he dropped a kiss there, then another, further up, and another.
Taking her silence as a sign of her acceptance, he lifted his mouth to hers and claimed it. Her lips parted and he kissed her, softly at first, then, when he felt her hands snake up behind his back, he drove the kiss deeper. She was soft, and warm, and she had forgiven him. Looking into her eyes he saw softness again, and relieved, he buried his face in her neck, inhaling, and breathing in her scent, her essence, her everything.
She moaned, and pressed against him, making him hard again. This was what she wanted, what most women wanted, and he gave it to her. Slow, sensual get-ready-to-fuck kissing, with his hands sliding gently over the fabric of her work suit.
He pressed against her, until she broke the kiss.
“Now that we’re clear,” she said, moving towards the elevator again. “Let me know when I can pencil you in. Not tonight. I’m busy.”
The elevator dinged its arrival, and she got in, then disappeared, leaving him annoyed, and as horny as hell.
She might as well have poured a bucket of ice over his dick.
Chapter 14
Savannah’s advice had worked.
It had actually, truly, definitely worked.
Who knew?
It had given her courage when she had been sooooo tempted to give into Luke that day. She’d been ready to go to his place or hers. Whichever was the nearest. He had kissed her long and deep, and pressed his body against hers, making it obvious as to what he wanted.
