Page 91 of Behind the Net

Jamie’s nostrils flare. I roll my eyes, say good night to Rory, and pull Jamie with me. We walk through the streets to the apartment in silence until he glances down at me.

“Thanks for letting me crash your hangout,” he says.

My smile is teasing. “You didn’t ask.”

He snorts, and I know he’s thinking about when he demanded I move in with him.

“And it wasn’t a hangout. It was a date.” I turn away from him, smothering a smile as he makes an unhappy noise in his throat.

“Not. A. Date.”

I chuckle. I love teasing him.

We pass the guitar store, and a sigh slips out of me as my gaze lands on my dream guitar. I pause as I admire it.

Jamie stops at my side, folding his arms as he studies it through the window. “You love this guitar.”

“I do.” I gaze at it, memorizing the details of the wood. I can imagine just how the strings would feel.

“Next time we pass it, you should go in and play it.”

I shake my head with a smile. “If I play it, I’ll want it even more,” I admit.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Yes, because then I’ll want other things even more. I’ll start picturing things. I’ll start dreaming again, and the last time I did that, it didn’t end well.

“In another life, maybe, but not this one. Come on. Let’s go home.”

When we open the front door, Daisy sprints over, and Jamie reaches down to give her scratches.

“I’m going to walk her,” he says, lifting her into his arms.

Our gazes meet, and my mind is on what we did hours ago against the door. His eyes darken, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing. A pulse of heat hits me low in my belly.

I’m tempted. I’m so fucking tempted.

The night Donna had a panic attack, though, after Jamie used the toy on me, he was about to let me down gently, and I quickly cut in because I couldn’t bear to be rejected again.

I bet that’s the expression he’ll wear when he tells me we can’t do this anymore. It’s only a matter of time. He’d never dump me the way Zach did, I realize. He’d do it the right way. He’d do it to my face, with care and respect.

I flinch, picturing it. Why does that feel worse?

Because that’s exactly the reason I like him. He’s kind, and he would never hurt someone on purpose, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt me without meaning to.

“I can’t do casual,” I tell him.

My words hang in the air, and my message is clear. Weneedto stop this. Even if it’s fun. Even if he’s giving me the best orgasms I’ve ever had. Even if we can’t keep our hands off each other.

He stares at me for a moment before his Adam’s apple bobs. “Yeah.”

My chest feels funny, tight and strained, with an unwelcome pressure. “Good night.”

He nods, looking so serious. “Good night, Pippa.”

In another life, I said to him about the guitar. Maybe that applies to him, too.

CHAPTER42

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