Page 36 of Not Quite Perfect

“It doesn’t matter,” David said, tugging me between his knees, “since you’re not going out with him.”

I laughed. “I’m definitely not.”

His eyes narrowed as he settled his broad palms on either side of my hips. “Because you already have a boyfriend?”

I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. Sometimes I had a hard time reading him.

“I do,” I said, nodding and playing along. At least I thought we were playing.

The possessive gleam in David’s eye as he stared up at me made me wonder. It also made me shiver in spite of the fire blazing in the next room.

“And my boyfriend’swaaaaayhotter than stupid Scott Markowski,” I added, hoping to lighten the mood.

David’s thumbs bit into my flesh at the sound of the other man’s name, but then he released his hold on me. “You wouldn’t actually go out with some other guy, would you?”

“What? No. Of course not,” I answered, settling into the chair across the table from him. “How can you even ask me that?”

“It’s just that …” He trailed off, his gaze sliding away to focus on a spot over my shoulder.

This was happening more and more frequently the past couple of weeks. If we reached a difficult point in the conversation, he’d seemingly change his mind and veer the discussion in a different direction.

Well, not this time. “It’s just what?” I pressed, desperate to hear the end of that sentence.

“It’s just that we haven’t talked about what this is. Are we exclusive?”

I let out a laugh, repeating the asinine question under my breath. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he began so slowly that I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, “that maybe it’s time we figured out what it is we’re doing here.”

“I thought we were doing each other.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, but it didn’t produce the reaction I’d expected.

His face remained blank for several long seconds, and then he blinked … long and slow. “Except we’re not. Not since you found out about my divorce.”

Shots fired. Target hit.

I knew we’d need to talk about that at some point, but as the days had worn on, it had seemed harder and harder to casually drop our lack of a sex life into the conversation. Ironically, the situation had given me new appreciation for how David must have felt when he’d failed to tell me about Stacia.

I’d forgiven him that lie of omission. I really had. But it had made me realize that we’d gone about our relationship pretty backwards. The list of things I knew about him—and vice versa—wassignificantlyshorter than the list of things I didn’t. And so I’d kind-of-sort-of decided we shouldn’t have sex again until we got to know each other better.

“About that—“

“—I feel like you’re punishing me.”

Speaking at the same time, we both stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry. You go first.” He gestured for me to continue.

“You think I’m punishing you?” It took everything I had to get the words out. Never in a million years had that been my intention. I was trying to save our relationship, not destroy it. The fact that’s what he’d thought made me feel horrible.

He scrubbed his palm over his jaw and then looped it around the back of his neck. With his head dropped slightly forward, he glanced up at me. “Yeah, sometimes.”

My own jaw hung loose. “I’m … that’s … why …” I sat further back in my chair and tried to recover. “No. that’s not it at all.”

“I know I fucked up, and I don’t blame you. I just want to know what I can do to make things right between us.”

My shoulders dropped and my chest deflated. I reached across the table to take hold of his hand. “I’m not punishing you … not any more so than I’m punishing myself. I just think …” My sentence died on my lips.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to tell him we should wait to become intimate again. Mybrainknew it was the right thing to do, but myheart—and my lady parts—weren’t necessarily in agreement.

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