Page 71 of All Twerk, No Play

Victoria

Ishedmycoatand my shoes, refrigerated the takeout, then … waited.

With Spencer, sex had been an obligation, and with Alexander, a distraction from studying that morphed into a half-forgotten hobby.

I’d never done a booty call, never sat around waiting for that knock. Should I strip down and greet him naked on my couch? Already be in my bedroom?

I felt out of control, wishing for rules to follow.

Which is why when he let himself in, he found me at my desk. He leaned in my home office door frame and chuckled. I held up a finger as the paper pushed out of my printer, then signed with a flourish and held out the one night stand contract with a sarcastic grin.

His amused smile dropped into a scowl. “I’m not signing that.”

“But it’s my night." I tried to keep the pout out of my voice. I didn’t do one night stands, but that was all he offered … so I’d make an exception.

“No, it’s not,” he snapped. If he didn’t want sex, why proposition me from the stage? How dare he beg me in public then shut me down in my home? Was toying with my libido a game to him?

I dropped the contract on the desk and it flitted to the floor. “Twenty minutes ago you publicly begged to have sex, and now you’re telling me no? That’s bullshit.”

His nostrils flared. “No, what’s bullshit is printing out that paperwork because you got ghosted and now you want to save face.” He strode across the room, looming over me. I stood up to meet him, arms crossed, not letting him intimidate me. I wish I kept on my shoes, I’d dig the heel into his foot.

“I know my role. I’m just your mulligan,” he said. Heat rose in my face, as if what I wanted from him was that transactional. “Your do-over after a bad shot.”

“I know what a mulligan is."

“Then you should know why I’m pissed you printed that contract."

“Contracts protect you."

“No, that contract protects you. I sign that paper agreeing to fuck you,” his voice was tight with barely constrained rage, “and you take it to management? I’m not just fired, I’m fucking homeless.”

Fuck. The air went out of my lungs.

“You think I’d do that?” I asked, my voice shaky.

He shook his head, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he said in his calm customer service voice. His gaze was professional, with none of the heat from the bar.

I fucking hated it.

He hitched his thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna go.”

“Wait,” I said without thinking, grabbing his shirt before he put more space between us. He looked down at my hand fisted in the fabric, then raised his head slowly, his eyes narrowed. “I can explain.”

He stepped back to remove his shirt from my grip, crossing his arms. If he walked out, would I ever get this chance again? “I’m listening.”

“I …” I said, rubbing my index finger over my brow. “It seemed easy when we were kissing, when your hands—then I walked into my apartment alone and got into my head about—” I willed my head up to meet his gaze. “I’ve never done this before.” I wiggled a hand between our bodies and licked my too-dry lips. “Casual sex, I mean. I’ve only ever …” My eyelids dropped to protect me from his judgment. “I’ve only been with two people.”

Every cell in my body wanted to shrink at my confession, but I forced my eyes open to catch his reaction. He unfurled his arms to wrap his hands behind his neck and released a long, indecisive exhale.

“Two people?But you and Alex broke up …”

“Three years ago,” I whispered.

“Three years ago,” he repeated, running a hand over his beard.

I glanced at my recently manicured fingertips. “It’s been a hell of a dry spell.”

He chuckled softly. “No kidding you’re so tightly wound.”

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