Page 20 of Recklessly in Love

“You like me.” It almost sounds like an accusation.

I roll my eyes, playing it off. He’s not wrong, though admitting things like that out loud isn’t my style. “I’d like your cock in me, but since that’s not an option, I’m happy to lay here and feel you up.”

Greg grasps my chin and looks into my eyes. “Well, I like you, Joanie — a lot. You’re smart, honest, and sarcastic. Oh, and way too sexy for your own good. Especially tonight.”

I lick my lips. How does this man always know the right things to say? And how can he turn me on so much while barely touching me?

“You know, maybe we could just …” I slide my hand lower, down his tight abdomen, but don’t get far before he laces his fingers with mine.

“Is intimacy without sex that terrifying for you?” he asks bluntly.

A sarcastic remark hangs on the tip of my tongue, but something about his expression seals it behind my lips. His pupils are dilated, his expression open and searching.

I take a deep breath. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

“Yes. If a guy isn’t looking to just fuck me, he’s looking to get something by fucking me. Ergo, I don’t do real intimacy. It’s asking for trouble. I like my life how it is. I don’t need intimacy, just sex. Relationships complicate things.”

He shakes his head sadly. “Are you telling me there’s not a single man who has successfully broken through your bullshit?”

“Excuse me? My bullshit?”

“Yes, Joanie. Your bullshit. Your ‘I don’t need men for anything but sex’ attitude. Are you telling me you honestly don’t want more? A life partner?”

“Not a priority for me,” I reply flippantly.

“Maybe not, but isn’t everyone looking for someone who gets them? Who wants to be with them for who they are? For more than just sex?” he presses.

I close my eyes and realize I’m too tired for this shit. And the pain is creeping back out from under the drugs they gave me at the hospital.

“If you’re looking to uncover some trauma that’s made me afraid to love, you’re wasting your time,” I say flatly, then open my eyes and stare hard into his. “I guess I just haven’t found anyone worth sharing … more with. Which is fine by me. I like my independence.” I scooch up into a sitting position, and he scrambles to follow. “Can we just … not talk about this anymore? I need more acetaminophen and some rest.”

His eyes search mine for a long moment. “Yeah, okay, of course,” he finally accedes, rising from the bed. He stacks the contents of both trays onto one and takes them out of the room with him. He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and two pills. “Here.”

I take them without looking at him, swallowing the pills and chugging the water. “Thanks.”

Greg draws the blackout curtains, sealing the room in semi-darkness, the only light from the lamp on my side of the bed.

I slip under the covers and lay on my back, watching Greg round the bed to his side. He kicks off his slippers and removes his sweatpants, revealing boxers underneath. Despite the tension of our conversation, I’m disappointed when he leaves his T-shirt on and climbs into bed.

After all, he is ridiculously attractive. But then, I’ve been with plenty of attractive men. With Greg, though, it’s … more than that. I mean, the physical attraction is clearly strong for both of us, but he’s the first guy possibly ever to want to stick around when sex was off the table. On top of that, he’s taken care of me. And even though he doesn’t seem to get that I don’t need a man to feel complete, he respectfully dropped the subject when I asked him to.

I think he’s what most women would call a keeper.

Shit, do I want to keep him?

I realize … maybe.

Maybe I do.

The realization makes emotions drum quietly but steadily against my insides. So, against my better judgment, I decide to let him in. Just a little. Just enough to reassure him that I’m not totally opposed to the idea. That I’ve just never trusted someone enough for things to get even close to needing them. That maybe I’ve just been looking in the wrong places all this time. Places that weren’t here.

“When a man wants to focus on his career to the exclusion of an intimate relationship, he’s seen as ambitious and hard-working. But when a woman does it, she’s closed off and frigid and clearly messed up somehow,” I begin. I feel rather than see Greg stiffen beside me. “I love being a lawyer. I loved the challenge of getting ahead at my firm. Even though I don’t work there anymore, I still need that kind of challenge. And I intend to find it again.” I turn, and we lock eyes. “What I didn’t intend was you.”

Greg considers that before sitting up and stroking a hand down my back. “I’m not trying to distract you from getting your career back on track. I did a shit job of saying it, but what I was trying to tell you is that … well, I don’t just want you for sex, Joanie. If you want more, I’m up for it. That’s all.”

A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. There he goes, saying exactly the right thing again. “And if I just want sex?”

Greg’s eyes darken, and he goes still. “Christ, I wish you didn’t have a concussion right now.”

---