Page 71 of The Last Good Man

“I’m famished,” he says, and something tells me it’s not the food he’s talking about.

She goes over his food options before he orders steak, crisp potato skins, and grilled veggies. No drinks, only water. No desserts and no bread.

“Are you on a diet?” I ask as Olivia heads straight to the kitchen,

He sets his elbows on the table and surreptitiously glances around the room.

“Angry much?” he says under his breath beforebringing his eyes back.

He wears a dark zippered jacket open at the chest with a tight black top.

I struggle to hold his gaze, so I lift my glass of wine, take a sip, and glance away, hiding my expression behind my drink.

“Why are you here?” I ask quietly, putting my glass down and clasping my fingers together.

His leather jacket makes a swishy noise when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. The jacket is a fashion piece and must’ve cost a pretty penny.

He purses his lips into a playful smile.

“You’re not fucking with me this evening,” I say quietly but firmly. “I came here to relax.”

“Mm-hmm. I heard you got the honeymoon suite. Is that your idea of relaxing? Or, um…?”

He glances over his shoulder as if looking for someone, and two women stare at him while he shifts his focus back to me, a knowing grin on his face.

“Thomas–guydidn’t make it?” he tosses at me facetiously.

“Oh, shut up,” I chide him quietly.

“Why’s that? You put a spell on him and not of the good variety.”

“You think everything is about sex?” I snap in a hushed voice, dense enough to telegraph how sexually frustrated I am.

His grin widens.

“Everything is about sex…” he says in a muted tone, so the conversation remains between us. “Especially now.”

His eyes delve deep into mine while he slowly shakes his head.

“It starts with sex,” he says. “Then you have feelings. And if you’re lucky, you grow like ivy around each other and never pull apart.”

I mull over his line.

It is a pickup line. I know these things.

“I don’t believe a word you say,” I murmur.

He dismisses everything he just said with a knowing laugh.

But what if sex is what it’s all about? Right now. On this evening. This dark, rainy night. Isn’t he here because of sex?

Perhaps he thought I’d say yes to him.

Two thoughts spin around my head at once. What would the morning after look like with him?

And then, how would I feel about it?

Somehow, he matters to me, and I already have this rule in place about sex.

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