Muffin Top

“It didn’t work out that way.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Not even close.”

“Constance mentioned the clothes.” He had no clue why he was getting involved in all of this. It would be easier just to chalk up Constance as a class-A bitch and move on, but he couldn’t let it go. It was a sore spot for Lucy, one he could tell she couldn’t stop poking at—and she wouldn’t until she worked it all out, and that was as bad for her as it was for Constance to hold on to a stupid high school grudge. “She said you thought you were better than everyone else in high school.”

“She couldn’t have been more wrong. I thought everyone—and I mean everyone—was better than me. My insecurity was legendary.”

“You don’t seem like that now.” If anything, she was the kind of tell-it-like-it-is, stand-up-to-anyone woman who could kick someone’s ass without chipping a red-tipped nail. God knew, she loved giving him shit all the time.

She raised her bottle and clinked it against his. “It’s amazing what a thick, defensive layer of fuck-you can hide.” Taking a short pause, she eyeballed him. “Now are you just avoiding talking about last night, or are you really into years-old gossip?”

That was his Lucy, getting straight to it. Really, she’d held out longer than he’d expected, considering how direct she usually was. Of course, that didn’t mean he was ready to lay all of his cards out on the table.

“You want to talk about last night?” he asked, taking a drink of the super hoppy local IPA.

“I know I said we shouldn’t, but it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” She took a deep breath, a V of worry creasing the space in the middle of her forehead. “I don’t want to be the person to make you break your word to yourself.”

“About being on the sex bench?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay, I’m back in the game.” Oh, was he ever.

That little break had shown him one very important thing. It wasn’t what he was doing that was the problem, it was who he was doing it with. The time he’d spent with Lucy was different than with other women because of his need to compartmentalize coming back to bite him on the ass. He’d put Lucy in the friend zone, but she wouldn’t stay there. Their whatever-it-should-be-called was about more than just physical satisfaction. Hell, up to this point it had been all about physical denial. She made him laugh. She made him think. She made him wonder how in the hell he hadn’t figured all of that out before their little what-is-sex conversation last night.

The truth of the matter was, she was right. Sex was different when you cared about the other person in more than just the general humanitarian sense.

“Don’t make a joke of this,” she said. “Consent is important, and I don’t want to put you in a position where you don’t think you can say no because you’re a nice guy, or because you’re just really horny and I’m willing.”

Fucking A. Lucy had no clue what she did to him. He dropped his hand to her knee, skimming it upward. Thanks to their booth’s location, no one could see what he was doing—which was basically nothing because she’d switched from a skirt to yoga pants. However, it was enough to remind her of exactly what had happened last time he’d had his palm on her thigh.

“You’re not pushing me.” He slid his hand higher until his fingertips brushed her center, making her eyes flutter. “I’m fucking desperate to be between your thighs again—not anyone’s thighs but yours. And I will be, if you’ll have me.” He withdrew his hand, picked up his beer bottle, and hoped like hell she didn’t notice how badly he was white-knuckling his control right at the moment. “But not until tonight.”

Lucy laid the back of her head against the booth and closed her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Yeah, that was the desperation raging through his body, too. But he had to stick to the plan he’d cooked up last night. Build it up. Draw it out. Make her want him as much as he wanted her.

In other words, hope like hell he could convince her that he just might be more than a good lay.

“How many times do I have to tell you that patience makes it hotter?”

Going slow, as he was learning, was all about savoring, building anticipation, making the want a need. Fuck. Their entire trip so far had been foreplay, and he wasn’t about to blow it in the home stretch.

And whatever happened with Lucy, it wasn’t just a let’s-fuck-in-the-bar-bathroom kind of thing. It was more. It could be more. He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was different, and he couldn’t wait for tonight.