he was rich from googling him, but I hadn’t known that he’d grown up in the South and that his family was so privileged. He had to be from old money. Old white Southern money. There was nothing progressive about that.
But can you blame him for that? a voice whispered in my head.
“No,” I answered myself out loud. I took a deep breath and exhaled. This was starting to get complicated. Mentally it was getting harder and harder for me to compartmentalize Tate into little boxes. This was about more than just sexual attraction and him being a pig. I was more invested than that, though I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I mean, where could this possibly go? He was my boss. He didn’t believe in love and marriage from what I could see. He was a man whore and he came from a completely different world from me. If his dad didn’t like his sister’s fiancé because he was a Democrat, what would his family ever think about me? I’d never fit into that world. Not that Tate had even asked me to. Most probably all he wanted from me was sex, and eventually, he’d find some blue-blooded Southern princess and end up with her.
As I grabbed a pair of sweatpants, I shook my head. Nah, I couldn’t see him in that situation, either. He might be an asshole, but he was stubborn. I was pretty sure that no one could make him do something he didn’t want to do.
By the time I got to the checkout line, I was feeling a little calmer. My plan for the gym was still in my mind and I was going to go for it. I was going to have some fun. Why should he be the only one to make me uncomfortable? I was going to have a little fun with him as well.
“Did you get lost?” He was grinning at me as I exited the store with my bag.
“Pardon me?” I looked at my watch. “I was gone eight minutes. In that madhouse. Do you see how packed it is? You’re lucky I was only eight minutes.”
“If you’d let me come into the changing room with you, I know what we would have spent eight minutes doing.”
“Ouch, that doesn’t say much about you, does it?” I pouted my lips at him. “They have medication for that, you know”
“Medication for what?” His eyes narrowed and then he burst out laughing. “Ah, you’ve got jokes. I’m not saying I’m an eight-minute man. I’m just saying that there are some circumstances when you want to pound it out quickly.”
“Well, I’d rather not be with a man that wanted to, and I quote, pound it out.”
“Don’t tell me—you like to be with a man that spends an hour on foreplay and then another hour making love to you in a bed of rose petals with John Mayer songs playing in the background?”
“No comment.”
“No, I want to know,” he said as we started walking back down Market Street. “What sort of lovemaker do you prefer?”
“That’s none of your business.” No way in hell I was going to tell him I was a virgin.
“Or do you prefer it hard and quick?” he said, his blue eyes laughing at me. “Do you like it from behind?”
“You’re asking me if I like anal?” I raised an eyebrow. “That is so inappropriate.”
“No, but if you want to answer that, I’m cool with it. I was wondering if you were into doggy style.” He winked. “I’ve heard from some women that doggy style hits a spot that missionary doesn’t.”
“Why don’t you talk about it with those women, then?” I ignored the jealous butterflies in my stomach. “I’m sure they are more interested in having that conversation with you than I am.”
“Hmm, I have a question for you.” He licked his lips.
I groaned. “What now, Tate?”
“Well, it’s not a question, really. I just want you to tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told someone else, or that only a few people know about you.”
“Huh?” I blinked in confusion. That was so far out of left field that my mind went temporarily blank. “Are you also going to share something with me that few people know?”
“Sure, I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t willing to share.”
“I don’t want to know your cock size, either,” I said, and he laughed.
“Well, that’s not really a secret.” He winked at me. “I’m pretty infamous.”
“Oh, no!” I patted his arm