He walks over to me and holds out his hand to help me up from my chair. I smack his hand away and stand myself.
“I’ve been with perfect gentlemen, thank you very much.”
“And there’s your problem,” JP says, leaning in. “A perfect gentleman isn’t going to make you come the way I can.”
He’s so close I can practically feel the heat coming off his body. It warms me and simmers at the base of my stomach, causing a flash of heat to pulse through my body for a mere second, reminding me of that initial attraction on the day I met him. But just as fast as it arrives, it flits away.
“Don’t flatter yourself, JP.” I start to walk past him, but once again, just like in the conference room, he pauses me with a hand on my hip. He leans in close to my ear.
“I don’t need to flatter myself when it’s facts. If you were in my bed, you’d forget your name, your cunt would be begging for my cock, and your voice would be hoarse from crying out my name repeatedly.”
I hate to admit it, but I can see it.
I can feel it.
What it would be like in his bed, him hovering over me.
He’s demanding.
Controlling.
Doesn’t let up until every last inch of my body has nothing left to give.
Even whispered, there’s demand in his voice and, I can feel how it would be.
But that doesn’t mean I want it.
There’s a difference between romance and good sex. Good sex lasts a night, while romance lasts a lifetime.
But before I can respond, he steps away from me. We both make our way down the stairs, my legs wobblier than expected.
We bypass the hostess, who asks us how our dinner was, JP holds the door open for me, and when we’re both on the sidewalk, JP closes the distance between us and puts his hand on my hip once again.
“Tonight was an absolute succubus of valuable time. I hope it never happens again.”
“You and me both,” I say, holding my head high. “You were unpleasant and a self-assured ass. I would rather stick my head in a gas station toilet than go on another date with you.”
“The pleasure was not mine, babe. Hope you come down with a bad case of the toots later.”
I gasp and look him in the eye as he smiles. “Yeah, well . . . I hope your penis gets stuck in your zipper.” I make a step to walk away when he grips my wrist, brings it to his lips, and to my horror, places a kiss just on the inside of my wrist. His lips pause for only a breath, but it’s just enough time to cause my stomach to flip-flop, a demoralizing feeling.
No, body, we don’t like him.
Don’t you dare get sucked in by his flippant charm.
“If only my penis got stuck between your legs instead.” He lets go of my wrist. “Don’t trip on your way home.”
And then with one hand in his pocket, he takes off in the opposite direction, swagger in every step.
God, he’s infuriating.
“Hope to see you never,” I call out, for unknown reasons. Because I will see him again, in the office, because that’s the kind of luck I have.
Sighing, I reach into my purse for my phone so I can call an Uber when my hand connects with some paper. Confused, I open my purse and find the three twenty-dollar bills I left on the table.
The motherfucker!
Meant to Be Podcast Knox and Emory
Kelsey: Welcome, listener, to the Meant to Be Podcast, where we talk to madly-in-love couples about the way they met. Knox and Emory, thank you so much for joining me today. Please, let’s get down to business. Tell us, how did you two meet?
Emory: College, our junior year.
Knox: She was a transfer student from California.
Emory: It was his last year at Brentwood before he was drafted to play for the Chicago Bobbies.
Knox: Technically, we met at a baseball party. She showed me her boob.
Emory: That is not how it went. We were drunk, I was looking for my friends, and I asked him for help. We went into his room, I fell, and my boob popped out.
Knox: I was enamored with the nip slip.
Emory: I was horrified the next morning. We went on our merry way until he spotted me lost on campus. He said—and I quote—he never forgets a good pair of tits.
Kelsey: Oh my God. Ha-ha-ha.
Knox: I don’t. And I never did. The rest is history.
Emory: The rest is not history. He spent months attempting to win my affections in the most ridiculous ways possible.
Knox: And I won her over.
Emory: Only to break up for eight years. But then . . . we found each other again.
Knox: I wasn’t letting her go that time. I put a ring on it and then . . . the rest is history.