Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(14)

She cleared her throat and looked around, like anyone gave a f*ck about what we were talking about. “I don't mean to be rude, but I don't think that it's any of your business, Casey.”

She wasn't my business. She was right.

“That's fair. I just thought we could be friends.” Instantly her features softened. Her brow relaxed and she took another long sip of her coffee.

“Sorry. I…I've never done anything like, you know, what we did last night.” Her cheeks flushed and I hoped she was thinking about how good it felt. I needed to stop thinking about it, too, before I had to adjust myself.

“Never?” I asked.

“Never. Have you?”

I wish I could have said that I'd never f*cked around on a girl. Not that I was a prick or anything. I liked to think I was more of an opportunist. Sometimes opportunity climbed on your lap. Sometimes an opportunity bent over in front of you when you weren't wearing pants. Sometimes the back of an opportunity's throat itched and wanted me to scratch it with my cock.

Maybe I was a prick.

But I'd never strung a girl along. I'd never lied. Sure, I had hooked up with other women while I was with someone. Granted, it was at the end of the relationship every time. Call it a red flag for me. If I wanted to bang the shit out of one chick, while I was dating another one, it probably wasn't mean to be.

“The truth? Yeah,” I admitted.

I could can tell by the way her eyes wouldn't land on mine that she was not impressed. After I'd thought about it, I wasn't that impressed either. Maybe I should have lied and said I was a saint, but she probably would have saw right through it though.

“Listen, Blake. It isn't nuclear physics. If you sleep around on someone, there are only a few reasons why.” I held up a finger and she looked at it like the answer was written there. “One. He's a jerk.”

“Grant's not really a jerk.”

“Very convincing. Especially when you add 'really' in there like that. But for the sake of argument, we'll say he's not.”

“Okay.”

I had her full attention. As if I were about to tell her where the Holy Grail was, she leaned over the table and her boobs pushed up enough so that her cleavage was on display just for me. It was mag-f*cking-nificent. I needed to slow down and come up with a few more reasons. “Two. You think he's unfaithful and you're doing a tit-for-tat thing.” I wiggled my two fingers and then directed them at her for an answer.

“No, that’s not like me. Even if I did think that, I'd just break it off with him. But he's not like that either.” Damn. I had hoped it could have been that.

“Three. You are looking for a reason for him to break up with you.” Something fired in her eyes and then she shook her head, but didn't verbally shoot it down. “Or four. He doesn't know how to get you off.”

She had a filling in her back, bottom left-side tooth. I gained this bit of Blake data when her jaw unhinged itself there in the middle of the cafe.

“So. Number four then? That sucks.” I leaned back in my chair and watched her. I would have loved to hear what she was thinking in that moment. It appeared she was having a conversation with herself, the way her head was nodding and her eyes squinted in deep thought.

Would she change the subject or fight back?

“He gets me off. All the time,” she defended, a little louder than I expected her to.

She was a fighter.

Then her small-framed body slouched after she noticed how loud she'd spoken. It was one of those moments when you're somewhere full of sound and right when you speak the planet goes on mute. She was living that scenario.

I kept going. “Nope. That took you too long. I feel a little bad for you. Women as a whole, really. Half the men I know don't give a shit if a woman gets off or not. I think it's a testosterone thing. They can't be blamed.” Her eyes glazed over in thought. I changed the subject, “Wanna go find some clothes?”

She was so cute. Still shaking her head. I knew she was trying to think of the last time her boyfriend curled her toes. If he did, in fact, get her off like she'd claimed, it was a long time ago.

“Come on, Betty. You need some duds.”

She rose. We made for the door and then she froze, “Wait. We can't leave our mugs.” She turned back for our abandoned table and grabbed a few napkins from the counter on her way. As she came back to me, she tried her best to wipe them out. “You bought these. I'm keeping mine.”