The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient #3)(24)

She says nothing.

“Anna, it would have been so easy just to—”

Her body tenses, and she sit upright, shooting daggers at me with her eyes. “It’s not ‘easy.’ Not for me. If it was, I would have done it.”

“I’m sorry. I just think—”

“I think this is as far as we’re going to get,” she says, and there’s a finality in her voice that tells me she’s done. Her dating profile was clear that she only wanted one night, and this was our one night—since the first night didn’t count.

A sense of loss threads through me. I don’t want this to be how we part. I didn’t accomplish what I wanted, and I don’t think she did either, not if she wanted to get over her ex—whoever that dickhole is—by having rebound sex. But we really are at a standstill. We both want things the other won’t give.

I stand and pick my shirt up off the ground. As I pull it on, I’m aware of her eyes on me. She likes what she sees. That’s something, even if it’s only skin-deep. With the right person, I think she’ll open up, and it’ll be fucking glorious. But that person isn’t me.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say when I’m standing in front of her door. “I know it was rocky in the end, but I had a great time.”

She joins me in the entryway. “It was the same for me. Thank you—for being you.”

It seems like the right thing to hug her good-bye. When I have her in my arms, it feels like the right thing. She fits against me like she belongs here. I don’t mean to kiss her. It just happens. And she kisses me back. There’s a moment when we hesitate, both unsure of what we’re doing, but our lips come together again. I don’t know who initiates it, her or me, maybe it’s both of us, but I kiss her like it’s our last kiss. Because that’s what this is.

When we finally separate, her eyes are dreamy, her lips red. I run my thumb over her swollen bottom lip, unable to stand the fact that this is the last time I’ll be able to do this.

Without stopping to think, I say, “What if we tried again?”

She blinks several times, her brow wrinkling. “You think we can finally have a proper one-night stand if we try one more time?”

I huff out a soundless laugh. “Third time’s a charm.”

“But you—I—we …”

“I think there are things we both could work on. Why not try it together?” I hold my breath and wait for her to answer.

She concentrates on tracing the MLA graphic on my T-shirt with her fingertip as she says, “I don’t think I can do … the things you wanted.”

“Maybe we can figure out another way, meet in the middle somehow.”

“Do you have any ideas?” she asks.

“Not yet,” I admit. The thought of fucking her while she lies there, wishing for it to be over, puts a bitter taste in my mouth, but there has to be another way, something else we can do. We can’t be the first people in history to have this kind of problem.

“Okay,” she says, squaring her shoulders as a determined glint enters her eyes. “Let’s try it one more time.”

I don’t attempt to stop myself from smiling. “Okay.”

“Next weekend?” she asks.

“That works.”

“Are we completely ridiculous?”

“Maybe,” I say with a laugh.

She laughs along with me, and for a moment, we stand there in each other’s arms, just looking at one another.

Eventually, I pull away. “I’m going to head out, but we should text and decide on next weekend.”

“Sure.” She flashes a smile at me. “Bye, Quan.”

Giving her one last, quick kiss on the lips, I say, “Bye, Anna.”

Then I leave, and she shuts the door behind me. As I walk to my car, I brainstorm different ways we can approach our intimacy problems. Nothing seems quite right, but I think we’ll get there.





TWELVE





Anna

“HOW HAVE YOU BEEN, ANNA?” JENNIFER ANISTON ASKS. TODAY, she’s wearing a loose dress with Aztec designs and leather sandals that loop around her big toes and ankles.

The usual answer slips from my lips. “The same.” But then I hesitate. “Well, not entirely.” A lot has happened in the weeks since our last appointment.

Her eyes spark with interest. “How so?”

“My boyfriend decided he wanted to have an open relationship.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but it takes a second before she actually speaks. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“Yeah.” I smile awkwardly and look down at my hands, which are clasped together in my lap as usual.

“How do you feel about it?” she asks.

I hesitate to answer, examining her face as I try to determine what her opinion is on the matter.

“How do you feel, Anna,” she says softly. “Not me. What I think isn’t important.”

I push a long breath out through my mouth. “You say that, but you’re not a stranger I’m meeting for a one-night stand. You’re someone I’ll be seeing on a regular basis for the foreseeable future. If you don’t like me, that makes things difficult for me.”