Page 42 of Make Me Love You

“You know,” he said vaguely.

Her words from the night before came back to her with acute clarity. Her words...and his response. You know what I want, she had said. If he had, he wouldn’t admit it. I don’t think I do, he had replied. Why don’t you tell me?

Now it appeared their roles were reversed. He was the one with the dark desire that he loathed to give words to, and she was the one who was going to gleefully pull it out of him. Oh, yes, she was. She nearly rubbed her hands together and chortled like an old-timey villain in a black-and-white movie.

It wasn’t hard to guess what he wanted, and why it bothered him so much to admit it. This was straight-and-narrow Eli, after all. The man who followed the law to the letter, even if that meant arresting his best friend’s dad. The man who always buttoned his shirt to the very top, even if it choked him. He had probably never had sex without the requisite three dates first. It must chap his hide to realize he wanted meaningless, commitment-free sex, and with her of all people. To realize he was just as human as everyone else. Just as fallible. Just as needy.

What a goddamn delightful turn of events this was.

“I don’t think I do know what you want, Eli,” she said, enjoying throwing his words back in his face. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He scowled. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.” She beamed.

The muscle in his jaw twitched, but he remained stubbornly silent.

“Come on,” she said. “If we’re going to do this, we need all our cards on the table. There is too much history between us. Too much bad history. Let’s not set ourselves up for an unnecessary misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t all bad.”

She blinked, remembering how she had felt waking up in his bed, in his arms. It wasn’t that she had forgotten the bad things. But in that brief, hazy moment, the bad things had been outweighed by all the good that had come before.

“No,” she said softly. “It wasn’t all bad.”

“But you’re right. We’re already set up as opponents in the mayoral race. A misunderstanding involving sex might cause World War III. Cards on the table, then.”

She waited. When he didn’t follow that statement up with putting his cards on the table, she raised her eyebrows. “Use your words, Eli,” she coaxed. “It’s easy. All you have to say is, Emma, I want no-strings-attached, meaningless sex until one or both of us decides we’re done with it. See? Easy.”

“Right. That’s what I’m asking for.” He made a sound of disgust. “Because that’s what this is, and there’s no sense in pretending it’s something else.”

The anger in his voice took her aback. Was it the meaningless sex that he found distasteful, or the meaningless sex with her? “We don’t have to do this. If you don’t want to. If you have, I don’t know, moral qualms about sleeping with someone you’re not technically even dating.”

“Oh, we’re doing this, all right.”

“Eli—”

He hauled her against him, cutting off her words with a hard, brief kiss. “We’re doing this.”

Her lips tingled. She liked that. It made other parts of her tingle, too. “All right.”

“But I do have strings.”

Of course he did. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

“First, while this is happening with us, we don’t see other people. We’re not dating, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t a relationship, even if it is kind of twisted. I don’t juggle, and I don’t share.”

She blew out a sigh. That was a relief, actually. And not only because the thought of him with someone else made her insides feel like someone had taken a rusty chainsaw to her stomach. She didn’t want to see anyone else, either. Who had time for that?

“We’re on the same page, there. What else?”

“We have an end date: the election. It makes sense, because after that, we won’t have to see each other anymore. If you want out before that...” He paused, looking away. “When you’re done, you tell me. To my face. None of this texting shit. I’ll make it easy on you, don’t worry about that. Just...don’t disappear on me.”

Like everyone else had. The unspoken words hung in the air. Her chest tightened. It would be easier if they didn’t know each other so well. If she hadn’t known where all his scars were, and where to stick the knife to cause the most pain.

She took his chin between her index finger and thumb, turning his face toward hers. “Look at me, Eli. I will never leave without telling you. Okay?”

He swallowed, the lines of his throat moving. “Okay.” He pushed her hand away and glanced at the clock. “You should get going. It’s past five.”

---