Page 52 of Shot Taker

She turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. “You better not.”

“You jealous, Pink?” I’m strangely into it, not because I want her to question that she’s the only woman I think about that way, but because it means she cares.

Nova lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“Last chance to get in,” she murmurs. “Are you really saying no?”

I’m fighting the urge to climb in with her, to strip off the last of my clothes and fuck her tight pussy until she’s begging me to let her come the way she’s begging me to join her now.

What she means is, can I fuck her and not care about her? Not need her and not need her to need me back?

“No. I mean, yeah, I’m saying no.”

As much as I want this, I won’t take it until she admits she wants to give us another chance.

She sighs and slumps back against my chest.

“That a dealbreaker?” I murmur against her cheek. “You going to kick me out if I won’t be your fuckboy?”

“I suppose not.” She holds out a hand for a towel. “Let’s watch a movie.”

* * *

We settle onPretty Woman. Nova likes rom-coms and Julia Roberts, and tonight I want to give her what she wants.

We’re curled up on the couch together as we watch the business man getting stripped down by the crass, charming sex worker. Nova let me pull her into my lap, a softer version of our position in the tub because we’re both dressed, even if she’s only in little shorts and a T-shirt.

I’m a breath away from looking up whether blue balls can cause permanent damage.

“I appreciate what you did for me with James,” she murmurs as we watch. “My entire life I’ve had reasons not to believe in myself. You believe in me as if it’s a given. That means more than I can express.” She hums. “When it comes to you, I need to trust you, but I also need time to know I can trust my own judgment. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of?” I’ve questioned other people lots but rarely myself.

In her position, though, with what she’s been through growing up and her parents' deaths and dating manipulative assholes, I can see how she’d second-guess.

“I get why they don’t kiss,” she goes on, still watching the TV. “It’s easier to keep things impersonal.”

"Impersonal" my ass.

“Are you laughing?” she goes on, twisting to look up at me.

“A little.”

“Why?”

“Because that ship sailed before I took you to Red Rocks that first night,” I murmur.

She sighs against me. “It was so exciting being around you. You were larger than life, but you made me feel special. I still remember that 'crunchy peanut butter' line.”

“Wasn’t a line. I wanted you to know me.”

“I thought I did know you.”

I shift up on my elbow to get a better look at her. “You do. You fucking do, Nova.” It matters that she believes it.

She shifts her body and turns into me, her breasts brushing my chest. Her eyes find mine, the bright blue pierced by dark pupils.

“I keep thinking about the other night in the back room at Mile High,” she murmurs. “It all happened so fast.”

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