Page 7 of Love Like Lightning

Gia wasn’t wearing much makeup when we met at The Well, but if she liked makeup, my guess is that her bathroom counter would be a nightmare.

Not that I’m judging. It’s not my business how she keeps her space. It’s just…not how I would do things.

“Thanks, it’s a lot nicer than I was prepared for.”

Her silky-smooth voice distracts me from the urge to tidy up. I let my eyes linger on the bed for a moment before I take a seat at her desk. It’s as stiff and uncomfortable as I expected, but I’m not planning on sitting for long, so it doesn’t matter. Swiveling the chair, I look over to where she’s still standing by the door.

“Did you think you’d be staying in some roadside motel that rents by the hour?” Quirking an eyebrow, I cross my leg and rest my ankle on my knee.

“No, of course not.” My question shocks her, and she laughs, visibly relaxing. “I don’t know. I live in the city. I haven’t really spent a lot of time in small towns. But the ratings for this place seemed good, so I booked it.”

“I’m glad you did.”

A sweet flush spreads across the bridge of her nose, making me grin even harder. “I’m glad too.” She clasps her hands in front of her, then unclasps them and lets them hang at her sides, then places them on her hips. After a moment, she drops her arms again and walks over to the bed.

Dropping onto it, she sinks into the plush comforter with her legs crossed. Mirroring me. When she’s finally situated, she sits on her hands and looks to me. “So, I don’t really do this.”

“Do what?” I know exactly what she means, but I get the feeling that having to explain might make her blush again. And I really want to see her blush again. That, and I do want to hear what she has to say.

I’m sure she thought I came here expecting sex, and it’d be nice if that happened, but I don’t expect anything from her. She might not even like me enough to let me kiss her.

And when was the last time that happened?

Not in a while. Women don’t tend to turn me down if I’m interested. I’m not cocky—well, not that cocky; it’s just the truth of the matter.

“This.” Raising her eyebrows, she pulls a hand out and gestures between the two of us.

“What are we doing, Gianna?” Her name rolls off of my tongue, and I like the way it feels. Dropping my leg, I lean forward, pressing my forearms onto my thighs.

“The random one-night-stand hookup thing. It’s not really my MO.”

“What is your MO?” She’s definitely not the first woman I’ve hooked up with who said they didn’t usually “do this kind of thing.” Some of them actually mean it, others definitely don’t. They just like to pretend.

I’m inclined to believe Gia. The nervous energy coming off of her doesn’t lie. I’m hoping that talking for a bit eases those nerves.

Normally, I’d just go with it. I never asked any of those other women what they usually do, but for some reason, with Gia, I want to know. I want her to be eager, not nervous.

Something about her innately has me wanting her comfortable, and wanting this as much as I do. Which has my brain all jumbled up. Hookups are fun, but normally if I get a whiff of nerves from someone I’m trying to get with, I just call it a night. No harm done. But most of the time, the girls I get with are just as ready to hop into bed as I am.

Gia… I want to give her some more of my time for reasons I truly can’t figure out.

“Long-term relationships with men who always end up being the absolute wrong person for me.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that I almost miss the small wince at the end. Clearly, the long-term relationship route hasn’t been working out for her. And she probably didn’t mean to say the last bit.

“You know we don’t have to do anything, right?” I get the feeling she needs to hear the words almost as much as I need to say them.

“You’d just, what? Leave?” Her mouth drops open, and the disbelief on her face confirms my suspicions.

“I mean, yeah, of course. If you wanted me to. Or we could just hang out. The diner’s open until pretty late if you want to grab a snack.” The offer to stick around even if sex is off the table flies out of my mouth faster than my brain can process what I’m saying.

Before I can backpedal, I realize that I don’t want to. There’s something here that has me really wanting to stick around for whatever reason I can.

Not exactly my MO.

Sticking around if there’s no sex on the table sounds a lot like relationship or friendship territory. Neither of which I’m looking for.

Well, a friend would be nice enough, but (a) she’s leaving, and (b) I don’t really have the time with how much I work, so even if she wasn’t leaving, it’s not realistic.

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