Dirty

“Semantics.”

He watched me look around for my purse but made no move to help me find it. “You said you did go on dates, sometimes.”

I shot him a smile. “Sometimes. Not for a long time. And a date is not dating. Dating implies more than once.”

“Ah.” He looked bemused. “Which leads to the emotional corruption.”

“Connection—” I looked up. He was teasing me. “That, too.”

“How long has it been since you went on a date?”

“Not counting our appointment?”

He held up a finger. “That was an appointment, not a date.”

“Right.” I didn’t have to think hard. “Four years, eight months, three days.”

I found my purse in the moment of silence my answer had created. I rifled through it, checking for car keys and cab fare. When I looked up, Dan was staring at me.

“How long since you’d had sex?”

“Three years. Give or take.”

“Are you counting from tonight or the time in the bathroom?”

“I’m counting from the time on the dance floor.” I zipped my bag closed and slung it over my shoulder. “Because… that was sex.”

He watched me get ready to leave. His expression didn’t tell me if he was shocked, angry or admiring. At last he ran a hand through his sandy hair, spiking it, then passed the same hand across his mouth.

“Good night, Dan.”

His words caught me with my hand on the knob to his front door. “You want to see me again. I know you do.”

I turned to look at him. “More than once, you mean?”

“You’ve already seen me more than once,” he pointed out.

“So then I should say no.”

I didn’t want to say no. The sex had been fantastic. More than that, his company had been comfortable. Dangerously so.

“I don’t date.”

“I’ll make another appointment.”

“Why?” I asked, point-blank. “You’ve seen me come with you inside me. What’s left?”

I think I really shocked him then. I meant to, anyway. I wanted to chase him away from me.

He stood up straight and glanced to the bedroom before striding over to me. He was tall enough so we didn’t stand eye to eye, but not so tall I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. His face had gone hard, and though I shouldn’t admit it, the sudden sense of danger, of wondering if maybe I’d pushed him a little too far, sparked a thrill through me.

“You’re smiling.” He wasn’t. “Do you like to play games, Elle? Is that it?”

Some men like to use their size or their fists to intimidate women. Dan looked angry, but he didn’t touch me. I didn’t move, didn’t retreat. He put a hand on the door frame next to my head.

“I didn’t get you off good enough?”

“That’s not it. You were very good.”

He didn’t look pleased at the compliment. “Not good enough for another round?”

“You didn’t ask me if I wanted to fuck you again,” I said matter-of-factly. “You asked me if I wanted to see you again.”

“You can’t do the first without the second, Elle.”

He was fast. Clever, without being arrogant about it. I liked that. Liked him.

“If you want to fuck—” I began.

“Is that what you want?” His voice dipped lower. “Just a quick fuck?”

“No,” I said. “Sometimes I like them to be slow.”

He put his other hand on my hip, pulling me step by reluctant step against him. “I can give you that.”

He was hard again. I felt him on my belly. I put my arms around his neck and let him press me close along his body.

“Can you?”

He nodded, solemn, hands cupping my ass now to rub me against his erection. “I told you. Whatever you want.”

“It won’t work, you know. It never does. People get attached—”

He laughed. “I won’t get attached.”

I smiled. His bare skin was warm beneath my hands. “Nobody thinks they will. But they always do.”

“And that’s why you don’t date.”

“That’s why.”

He rocked me against him, slowly. “Because men get attached to you.”

“Some have, yes.”

“And you don’t?”

I splayed my fingers on his shoulders, my thumbs stroking the ridge of his collarbone. “I did once.”