“What?” he snaps in an outrage. He points to his chest. “I’m . . . not boyfriend material?” he whispers. “I’m great fucking boyfriend material, Claire.”
I exhale . . . here we go. He’s angry now. “No. You’re not.”
“If anyone around here is not partner material, it’s you.”
I cross my arms and watch him as he begins to pace, furious at my rejection.
“You, Claire Anderson . . . are too old for me.”
“I know.”
“And you”—he points at me—“have too many children.”
“Precisely.”
“And I’m not into kids. Especially when they aren’t mine.”
I hold my hands out wide. “Like I said.”
“And I don’t want to be with someone who can’t be spontaneous, anyway.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.” I smile.
“Don’t be fucking condescending, Anderson.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you finished?”
“No. I’m not,” he growls. “You piss me off.”
“I gathered that.”
“Stop it.”
I pull him into my arms and run my fingers through his dark hair. His big beautiful brown eyes search mine, and he puts his hands on my hips. “You really are a beautiful man, Tris,” I whisper.
He pulls me closer.
“You deserve the best.” I kiss his lips as I run my fingers through his stubble. “I’m not her; I’m sorry. I wish I was. I really do. We are at different stages of our lives. You are just about to settle down and start a family, and I am finishing with mine.”
“Stop talking.”
“We both know that this isn’t going anywhere. I’m not a casual-sex kind of person, and you are.”
“Shut the fuck up, Anderson.” He kisses me softly and with just the right amount of tongue. My stomach flutters. “One last time?” he whispers against my lips.
God, it’s so tempting . . . “No.”
He pushes me up against the wall and slides his hand up my skirt. “Let me fuck you on your desk.” His mouth drops to my neck, and I giggle as I look up at the ceiling. “I told you I was going to do it. Right here, right now.”
“Tristan.” I laugh as I push him off me. “You gave me an option: France or my desk. I took France. You don’t get the desk. Now you need to go.”
He stares at me for a moment. “You’re actually serious about this?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to see me ever again?” He frowns.
“No.”