Sugar

“When’s graduation?”

“May twelfth.” If I said no, that would be the day our current association would end.

“I’d hope to have your answer before then.”

“I’ll have to think about this.”

“You will. And you’ll let me know once you’ve made up your mind.”

“Yes.”

“Until then,” he said, voice casual. “We’ll continue as usual. The roads should be clear by tomorrow. How about dinner tomorrow?”

Our current situation suddenly seemed much more manageable. Familiar. “I’ll be ready.”

“Have a good day off, love. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“See you then.” My hand slid into my lap with my phone.

It took a few minutes to mentally step back and understand the proposition I’d just received. I wanted to keep Micah in my life, and he didn’t seem ready to let me go. But… While I wanted to stay friends, he wanted to take our relationship to the next level. I’d been hoping to dial back the formalities, and he just added a shit load of complexities to the arrangement.

I pictured his flawless, dark skin and tall, lean build. He was a sharp man with a sleek manner. He was always calm and collected, but he was so different from, say, Noah.

Noah was fun and juvenile, overbearing, and sexy. Micah was sexy, too, in a quiet, unapproachable way. He said the others would go away. I assumed that meant all men, including Noah.

Why are you even factoring him into the equation? He knows you’re moving after graduation. This is business.

But it wasn’t. What Micah was proposing might be a financial arrangement, but it was way beyond business. This was smack dab in the G-spot of personal. We would have sex.

Micah and I would have sex. Would it be his way? I mean, he would be the one paying for my life. And what was his way anyway? For all I knew he could be into some crazy fetishes or horribly vanilla. Sex suddenly seemed insanely intimate.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew some women had arrangements like this, but I was a newborn as far as sugar babies went. I didn’t kiss my Daddies, and I never slept with any of them. For me, it was all about keeping company, getting paid, and making them feel like big strong men.

But there were sugar daddies out there who kept the same babies for years. Men who didn’t want marriage or complications or children. I wasn’t sure I wanted those things either—at least not yet.

And then there were those who didn’t bother with contracts. Of course, they were called paramours. All my lines were blurring, and I needed to step away from the situation to gain perspective. I wasn’t a paramour. I was going to be a teacher. But would I be alone? I didn’t want to be alone.

This was a lot to think about. I wouldn’t have to do it forever. But it might be worth pursuing for a time. Who knew if I would get hired right out of college? I needed to make an income if I wanted to support myself. And maybe it would be exciting traveling around the world with a wealthy, sexy man like Micah.

I wouldn’t have to juggle a schedule full of dates. I wouldn’t have to spend time with so many men. To outsiders, it just might look like a respectable relationship. And it would be. Teacher and businessman, the picture of respectability. He said he’d respect my schedule and teachers managed to get holidays and summers off. It was complicated but also simple.

Micah had never treated me with anything but the utmost respect. He made me feel good about myself, confident. He showed me the joy of empowerment by teaching me how to take advantage of my assets and become an independent, self-reliant woman. This would be—

There was a knock at the door, and I knew who it was without checking. It was my complication. My distraction. My weakness. No longer merely my friend. And suddenly the simple offer of Micah taking care of me turned into an insane idea I’d be crazy to accept. Right? Or was it crazy to turn down such an offer for a hot neighbor I hardly knew and who might only hold interest in me for a few weeks?

I was so confused.

I went to the door, leaving my private debate behind to simmer. Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and—yup—he was still gorgeous. Damp, tousled blond hair flipped over his brow as his smile highlighted his cleanly shaven jaw. My ovaries took an immediate hit.

With his arm braced against the door frame, he looked down at me and smiled. “You ran.” His voice still held the gruff rasp of morning, the scrape of his un-caffeinated vocal cords having a direct link to my nipples.

“Actually, I tiptoed.” I left the door open as an invitation for him to follow me inside.