Page 50 of One Touch

“Imagine.”

“And of course, you’re Ava’s nanny.”

“Just because we fuck,” she said, her lips glistening in the light, “doesn’t mean we have tofeel.”

“I’m not the kind of guy to have meaningless sex,” I protested weakly.

“Do you have any sex?”

I swallowed. “That’s not your concern.”

“Well, I have actually had quite a lot of meaningless sex. And you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s fun. Well, sometimes it’s more fun than other times. If it’s forbidden, like this kind of is, then I promise you, it’s really frickin—”

“Lily,” I growled, “you’re playing with fire.”

“I like it hot.”

I needed her to understand what she was dealing with. “If we had sex,” I told her, “I guarantee you that you’d want more.”

She giggled. “Oh yeah?”

“I. Would. Destroy. You.”

Was it me or did her legs just tremble?

“I’m not some kid, Lily. Not some scrawny little good-for-nothing rock star. I’m a man, sweetheart. A grown-ass man with rough hands and real experience. And when I do something . . .” I stepped forward and took hold of her chin, “I do it fucking right.”

I felt her hot breath against my lips. She was so close I could practically taste her. We stayed there for a moment. Then, I stepped back.

“The other night was a moment of weakness. I can’t afford to have another one. I need you to be there for Ava. It’s so important to me. You can’t leave.”

Lily paused, then breathed in slow and deep. “Ethan. I’m sorry. You’re right. Fuck.”

“If something happened between us, then we got angry with each other and it affected Ava, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Right. We have to put her first.”

“Thank you. Sex is never just sex. There’s always more.”

She shrugged. “I disagree. But I respect your opinion.”

“Thank you.”

She paused for a moment. “I can’t believe I just threw myself at you like that. In my wet underwear.”

“Don’t feel bad.”

“Kinda feels bad. Not because you turned me down. Just . . . how much of a cliché am I? Get cheated on by my fiancé then offer myself up to the first hot mechanic I find.”

“To be fair, I am also a firefighter.”

She smiled. “Trainee firefighter.”

“You’re not a cliché,” I said. “There’s something between us. It’s not . . . just rebound stuff.”

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