He’d feed me?
Not a chance.
“Sebring—”
He interrupted to ask, “You like spaghetti?”
Yes, I liked spaghetti.
But more, I desperately, even feverishly wanted to know if he was a good cook.
Naturally, I didn’t share either of these.
I stated, “It really shouldn’t matter to you if I do or don’t considering I’m your fuck for the evening.”
“An evening when I intend to eat spaghetti,” he returned.
“If that’s the case, I’ll come over at eight,” I replied.
There was a brief hesitation before he suggested, “I think we should define this fuck business you think you got goin’ on.”
For some reason I found that funny.
I could not allow him to make me laugh.
“A fuck hardly needs defining, Sebring.”
He ignored me. “You seem to be good with climbing on my dick, climbing off it and going home.”
“Yes, that would be how I define a fuck,” I confirmed.
“Right,” he said shortly but was far from done. “Not askin’ you to share your darkest secrets, Olivia, sure as fuck not gonna share mine with you. But you are not hard to look at. You’re sharp and smart and funny. And straight up, I’d rather sit around eatin’ spaghetti talkin’ to you while lookin’ at you before I fuck you than sit in my place by myself waitin’ for you to show and climb on my dick.”
All that was nice.
I could not allow that to feel nice.
“Seb—”
“We don’t gotta be friends,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly. This is no strings. I’m not lookin’ for attachments. I think we both get with who we are in our world it wouldn’t be smart we formed one. That shit never works. Not for anyone.”
He certainly had that right.
He didn’t need me to confirm that, he kept going.
“You got your gig with your family business and that in no way interests me. I do not want your gig or your family in my business. But we’re adults. We both got our heads screwed on straight, or at least I do and with your need to establish boundaries, I’m gettin’ yours is too. There’s more than one way to enjoy someone. You just wanna offer me your body, I’ll take it and be down with that. But I’d rather get the opportunity to look at you for longer periods of time than what I get fuckin’ you. If that comes with us having a few chats that don’t go beyond surface, I’m down with that too.”
He was handing me an option, marking the path so I wouldn’t get hopelessly lost.
An option I knew I shouldn’t take.
“I like spaghetti,” I announced.
Damn.
There was a smile in his voice I would have preferred to see aimed at me when he said, “Seven.”
“Right.”