"Not into public make-outs, hm?" He ran his hands up and down my sides. "No worries. I'm not really an exhibitionist either. I just can't seem to keep my hands off you. It's those fucking skirts, I swear to god. Drive mecrazy."
I ducked out from under his arms, putting space between us. I smoothed down my hair with shakyhands.
"I mean, we're not doing…this." I gestured wildly between the two ofus.
His lips quirked into a smile. "Sweetness, you can't tell me you don't feel this thing between us. It'shot."
"It is," I agreed reluctantly. I couldn't very well deny how much I wanted this man. Not when it was so obvious how my body responded tohim.
"So what's the problem?" hesaid.
"I don't do this," I continued. "I don't do public make-outs. I don't do random hookups. I don't go around kissing guys I barelyknow."
Damon looked almost confused. "You've never randomly made out at a club? Or fucked some guy at aparty?"
"No."
"You…" His eyes almost bugged out. "You're not a…virgin, are you?" He said the word in a hushed voice, as if it was someone worse than saying the words tits and ass outloud.
"No! For the love of… There's a middle ground between virgin and slut, Damon. It's calleddating.You ever heard of that? Two people getting to know each other before hopping intobed?"
"I may have heard of the term once or twice," he saidbreezily.
"I'm notjoking."
"Are you seriously suggesting…?" Damon's expression was almost a cringe, his brow furrowing. "You want todateme?"
"I don't know," I said truthfully. "You're kind of an ass and I hate your guts half the time, but—" I paused, gauging his reaction before continuing, "—I do think there's more to you than that, and yes, I'm attracted to you. So if you're into me, then ask meout."
The look on Damon's face was befuddled, as if he honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The closest to a date I've had is taking models to movie premieres and fucking them in the back of a limoafterward."
"Because that's exactly what a girl wants to hear from the guy who's always trying to kiss her." I snorted. "Either ask me out or leave myoffice."
"But I don't date," he saidautomatically.
"Then I guess we're at an impasse," Ireplied.
"I—" Damon was at a loss forwords.
"How about this," I said. "I'll give you three days. Either you ask me out and we see where this thing takes us, or you keep your hands to yourself from now on and we continue with this professional relationship as colleaguesonly."
"You really don't sleep with guys you're not dating?" he asked again, as if for clarification. "Those are my only twooptions?"
"Yes. Now leave and think aboutit."
Throwing me a look of disbelief the entire time, Damon left, slowly and without aword.
His expression would have been comical, if it wasn't my sex life we were talkingabout.
Chapter Eight
After Damon slunkout of my office, I didn't hear from him for a week. I hadn't expected to, really, but I couldn't deny the twinge of disappointment Ifelt.
Damon didn't date. I didn't sleep around. We were incompatible at the most basic oflevels.
Even so, I still re-read the texts he'd sent to me before I went to bed every night. I didn't know why I tortured myself like that. Maybe because those texts were the closest I'd come to sex in a long while. My job didn't leave much time for dating or boyfriends. I'd been living vicariously through Hope, and my sister wasn't one to divulge those kinds of things indetail.
I threw myself into my work, all the while trying to ignore the person I was doing all thisfor.