Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(23)

He’s not disappointing me. He’s impressing me.

I’m not sure how to handle a man who’s impressing me.

I set my glass down and an employee takes our plate and Davis’s empty bowl and espresso cup and then asks if we’d like refills. I decline and Davis orders a water. I’m not convinced he even likes champagne. Which means he arranged this whole tasting for me.

We share an eye lock similar to the ones we’ve shared before. I swear I see the faint shimmer of his soul before I blink and drink from my glass. I don’t typically gaze into a guy’s soul. Hell, had you asked me not too long ago, I’d have questioned whether or not they have them.

Uncharted territory. Once again.

“Tell me about the Davis Platinum,” I blurt as he lifts his water glass to his lips. His eyebrows rise as he swallows. He licks his lips and my dirty mind fills with images of him between my legs effortlessly wringing orgasms from me. It’s not an easy image to get out of my head, and the ache between my legs becomes harder to assuage.

“Why do you want to hear the packages now?” he asks.

Great question. One I can’t answer truthfully because the truth is that sleeping with Davis one time captivated me. By my calculations, a second time would merely satisfy me, and the third time I’ll be underwhelmed. We’ve had a streak of luck, but no one can keep it going forever.

It’s the old “get it out of our systems” theory. Once the shine wears off, we can call it quits and no one has to feel bad about it. I can go back to serving Davis Sam Adams and giving him hell, and he can go back to picking up a sorority sister with whom to decorate his bedsheets. It’s the circle of life. Anything outside of that is messing with the natural order of things.

A pang of longing radiates deep in my gut at the idea of his going back to serial dating. Which means we’ve become more serious than I intended. Serious boyfriend-girlfriend stuff is doomed from the start. We all know that. If there’s no Mr. Right (and there isn’t), then why delude ourselves? Distraction is okay. Distraction with an end date. A predetermined one.

“I was remiss in not choosing a package,” I tell him, taking control of this situation before it spirals out of control. “I’ll choose one now.”

“What happened to being spontaneous?”

“We can still be spontaneous,” I hedge.

“Platinum.” He breathes out a sigh of resistance. “What about deluxe?”

“Well, we’ve surpassed that.”

“You don’t know what it is, Gracie Lou. How do you know we’ve surpassed it?” He sounds impatient, but since he’s indulging me, I continue.

“Fine. What’s the deluxe?”

“The deluxe is our most popular package.” He rubs his hands together and I bite back a smile.

I will choose a package tonight no matter what. What Davis and I have will come to an end. Once I’m in control of when that is, I can relax and enjoy myself.

Waiting for the proverbial dropping shoe is not my idea of fun.

“The Davis, as you know, is a date, hold the eggplant.”

“Except no literal holding of the eggplant.”

“Right. Can’t really go back to not holding it once you’ve held it, can you?” His eyes twinkle with mischief.

“No, I suppose not.” I grin at him, liking the ease of this conversation. No soul-staring or wondering. Just discussing our future and its black-and-white parameters.

“Okay, then.” He nods once. “The platinum has two options. It can be a weekend thing—three days straight—or it can be three times.”

“Three…times?”

Davis leans close and waggles his thick sandy-colored eyebrows. “Three. Times.”

“So, if I chose the platinum, this would be our second date, with only one more to go.”

Totally doable.

“No, sweetheart,” he corrects. “Three times.” He lifts his eyebrow and tilts his head, letting his expression speak rather than his words. He’s talking about sex.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Tonight I may return you home with nary a kiss on the cheek.”

“Did you just use the word ‘nary’?”

“No sex means tonight doesn’t count as one of the times.” He drinks from his water glass.

“Hmm.”

“On the other hand, choosing the deluxe means that after tonight we could be done.” He shrugs with his mouth like it doesn’t matter to him which we do.

“No sex required?” I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to lighten the moment with a finger point and a “Gotcha!” He does neither.

“No sex required,” Davis confirms.

I know it’ll take a few encounters with Davis to go from fascinated to out the door, so the deluxe isn’t an option. Getting him out of my mind means getting him back into bed. Once may do it, but twice would definitely do it. I have no choice, really.

“I guess it’s going to have to be the platinum,” I announce.

My tummy flips and I press my knees together against the anticipatory quivering between my legs. Amidst a light champagne buzz and talking to Davis so openly about our sexual arrangement, I’m ready to seal the deal on that second time with him.

Tonight.