Violet raises one eyebrow, and her eyes go instantly wicked.
“I was plenty hospitable last night,” she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You’re the one who’s overstayed his welcome.”
“Have I?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
“And I’m sure you’re raring to get up and start your day.”
Violet lifts herself on her elbows, her pillow under her chest. The sheet slips down her back, still covering her ass, the curves of her breasts pressing outward.
I stare. I already had morning wood, but now it’s quickly becoming Violet is naked underneath that sheet wood.
“Don’t let me stop you from your planned Sunday of productivity,” I go on. “I’ll just be here. Let me know if my services are required.”
Now Violet laughs.
“What, if I need a jar opened?”
“Come on, Violet, you know what I’m good for.”
She just raises one eyebrow.
“Cooking and fucking,” I say.
Violet turns pink, the color flushing down her neck. It’s gratifying as hell, even though she looks away for a moment.
“I’m not bad at jars, either,” I admit after a moment. “But I imagine I could be of service somehow.”
Violet looks at me. She’s not laughing anymore, not blushing. Actually, she looks a touch worried.
“Is there some skill I haven’t covered?” I ask after a long moment.
“We should talk,” she says.
“Aren’t we?”
“About this,” she says, circling one finger over the two of us. “About what exactly this is.”
“Pretty sure this is us naked in your bed, unless this is some kind of prank show and one of these walls is about to fall down and reveal a studio audience,” I say, still in a punchy mood. I don’t want to talk about our relationship at the moment. Maybe in an hour, after I’ve had some coffee and breakfast.
Right now, I’d like to roll Violet over on top of me and watch her ride my cock like a cowgirl. In fact, that’s pretty much the only thing on my mind.
Violet ignores that studio audience thing and looks at me seriously, the sharks darting back and forth.
“I still don’t think we should date,” she says, her voice suddenly serious and quiet.
I push myself off my stomach and onto my side, my elbow under my head, the sheet still haphazardly draped over my waist. Violet’s eyes dart down, then back up just as quickly.
I let the words settle for a minute, watching her, an odd twinge of disappointment working its way inward, somewhere behind my sternum.
I don’t know why. She was right yesterday morning and she’s right now. I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me. We don’t get along. We can’t have a conversation without arguing, and that’s pretty much the bare minimum for dating.
If we tried, we’d both end up miserable, and that’s for damn sure.
I just wish she’d said this when she was less naked.
“All right,” I say, cock still throbbing. “You picked a hell of a time to say it, though.”
She glances down again. I roll onto my back, arms behind my head, erection pointing heavenward. Her eyes dart back to mine.
“I don’t think we should date,” she says, valiantly looking me right in the eyes. “It’s clearly not going to work. We can’t stand to be around each other, we can barely talk without —”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed we don’t like each other,” I say. “And I’m well aware of all the things you don’t like about me, no need to repeat them since you outlined them all yesterday.”
“I think we should be friends with benefits,” she says.
I admit, it takes me by surprise.
“Are we friends?” I ask after a moment.
She’s still looking deeply into my eyes, her gaze not wavering for a moment.
“It’s just a phrase,” she says. “I just mean that… there’s no reason not to have a physical relationship, even though an emotional one clearly wouldn’t work. But I’m not seeing anyone, you’re not seeing anyone…”
She trails off, like she’s looking for confirmation.
“Is that a question?” I say.
“You’re not, are you?”
“You don’t think you should’ve asked that at some point before last night?” I tease.
Violet rolls her eyes and adjusts the pillow underneath her. I almost see nipple. Almost.
“You know, Eli, there’s a lot wrong with you —”
“I do love it when you sweet talk me.”
“ — But you ain’t the cheatin’ type,” she finishes, an extra twang in her words and a smile in her eyes.
“For once, you’re right,” I finally tell her.
I look at her. She looks back, clearly determined not to look at my dick, tenting up the bed sheets like there’s a circus in there as my capacity for talking gets shorter and shorter.
“All right, Violet, let me get this straight,” I say, slowly, letting my eyes trail down her body. “You want to bang me like a screen door —”
“Oh, my God,” she mutters.
“ — and then kick me out, and I don’t have to take you to dinner and a movie or anything?”