The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(34)

My parents.

How?

They died.

I unexpectedly tear up and I quickly sign off so I can get offline before he replies. I don’t want to get into this; I don’t know why I even brought it up.

I’m tired,

Goodnight Ed,

Xoxo

I put my head back against the wall as the sweat runs down between my breasts.

I’m in the sauna at the work gym, it’s 8 p.m. on Wednesday night.

This week has been long and I just want it to be Friday already. I’m not even going to the stupid Christmas party tomorrow night—not feeling very jolly.

This time of year is always shitty. Christmas is the climax that reminds me of what I don’t have. But I get solace knowing that I’ll wake up the day after Christmas Day and the weight of the world will be gone and I’ll feel myself again; I always do. I just wish I could blink and be at that day.

The door opens and Elliot walks in wearing only a towel. “Hey.” He takes a seat opposite me.

Shit.

“Hi.”

He stays silent and I feel the air around me begin to circle with energy.

There’s a sexual chemistry between us that I can’t deny.

He inhales and puts his head back against the wall, and from my peripheral vision his muscles begin to taunt me.

Shit.

For fifteen minutes we sit in silence.

He’s acting completely cool and normal, as if we didn’t have those kisses in the club.

As if he’s forgotten all about the things he said to me. Did it even happen or did I dream the entire thing?

With every minute that passes, my anger rises inside of me, until I can’t stand it anymore. My inner rubber band snaps in a spectacular fashion.

“What is your problem?” I spit.

He gives me a slow, sexy smile . . . Damn it.

He won.

“You know, I don’t care if you win this stupid fucking game,” I whisper.

He watches me intently.

“And I don’t care if you slept with ten models on Saturday night.”

Amusement flashes across his face.

“Because I certainly don’t want to sleep with you.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what is that look? Don’t give me that look, Elliot, because I know what you’re doing.”

He smiles and puts his head back against the wall as he closes his eyes. He’s completely unfazed and I internally kick myself.

“What am I doing, Kathryn?” he asks.

Kathryn . . . I’m Kathryn again.

“You’re trying to fuck with my head,” I snap.

“Your head has nothing to do with it. I want to fuck your body.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “Do you have to be so crass?” I whisper angrily.

He shrugs casually. “It’s who I am. If you’re looking for romance, move along.”

I stare at him—where’s the dreamy guy from online? Is it even the same person?

I like Ed a lot fucking better.

“I am moving along,” I say as I tighten my towel.

“Why?”

“Why?” I scoff. “How is that even a question?”

“I have something you want, you have something I want. We could help each other.”

“You mean, be each other’s booty call.”

He smiles as he closes his eyes again. “No.”

“No what?”

“Well, a booty call is coming quick after a night out.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.

He sits forward and puts his hands on my thighs and spreads my legs. “I’m talking about spreading you out and eating you up.”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

“And riding you so hard for hours that you won’t remember anyone before me.”

Our eyes are locked.

“And you’ll be wet, and full of me.” He grabs a handful of my hair and drags my face down to him. He puts his mouth to my ear. “And I’ll be full of you.” He whispers as his tongue darts out to lick my face. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his thick tongue.

Dear God.

Goosebumps scatter up my arms.

He releases me and sits up as if completely detached. “Take your time and think about it. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and a lot of women can’t handle it.”

“Think about what?” I ask.

“I don’t do things in halves, I don’t do relationships, and I most definitely don’t share.”

“What do you do?” I whisper.

“I can fuck you like nobody has before.”

The air crackles between us.

“Make up your mind, because if we do this, we do it hard.” He drops to his knees between my legs and licks up the length of my inner thigh. I watch him, transfixed.

Fucking hell . . .

He flicks his tongue up my thigh as his eyes hold mine and I glance at the door. What if someone comes in and sees him on his knees doing this?

“You want sex with no strings?” I whisper.

“Yes.” With one last open-mouthed kiss on my bikini bottoms over my sex, he stands. “I want a consensual arrangement.”

My insides begin to melt.

“Will we see other people?” I ask.