“It really was for my friend,” I blurt. “The toys, I mean. They were for Elle. Not for me.”
Uri smirks. “It sounds like she and I would get along.”
“She’s getting married,” I snap before I can second-guess the impulse. “And even if she weren’t, you wouldn’t be her type.”
“She’s not my type, either,” he says with a casual shrug.
I frown. “How do you know that? You’ve never even met her.”
“She’s obviously the kind of woman who believes in marriage.” His irises have this weird kind of depth that makes me want to take a swim in them. “Marriage and I don’t mix.”
“Imagine my shock,” I say sarcastically. “You know, you may not be able to dodge that bullet forever. One day, one of those women you sleep with is gonna want more.”
“Seeing as how they never get a second date, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously? You’ve never been with the same woman twice?”
He looks remarkably comfortable sprawled out on the sofa next to me. “Never felt the need.” He throws me a flippant glance and my cheeks start firing up immediately. I don’t know why I even care. The man gets fingers in the freaking mail. I shouldn’t even want a second date with him.
I don’t want a second date with him.
“Maybe you have the right idea.”
His eyebrows drift upward. “You think so?”
I nod. “No one needs the drama. Or the pain. I’ve had like one relationship my entire life and I wasn’t anything close to happy in it.”
His lips purse. Why does he look irritated? Did he expect me to be sad that he wasn’t interested in fucking me again? Did he expect me to push back, disagree with him?
“Recent?”
“It ended three years ago. So not that recent, no.”
“Well, that explains the sex toys.”
I roll my eyes. “For the last time: They. Were. Not. For. Me!”
“Shame,” he says with a low chuckle. “It sounds like you need them a hell of a lot more than your friend does.”
I roll my eyes, even as my cheeks heat up yet again. I mean, he’s not wrong. Tonight is the first time I’ve had sex in over three years. Not that my Garfield panties weren’t a dead giveaway. But even when I was having sex, it was underwhelming on the best of nights.
I’m on the verge of telling him that when I stop myself. Why? Why do I feel the need to share so much of my personal shit with him? It’s not like he deserves it. It’s not like he’s even asking for it.
Just because you’ve watched him from your window doesn’t mean you know the man.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, though,” he adds, leaning in slightly. “It doesn’t matter how many toys you use: they won’t scratch the itch like a hot-blooded man will.” His gaze is intense as he holds eye contact for one more hot second. Then he relents and eases back, flippant again. “But I suppose, if you’re afraid to be hurt, they’re the next best thing.”
I recoil in irritation. “I’m not afraid to be hurt!”
“So you enjoy being lonely then, do you?”
I am on my feet faster than I’ve ever moved before. “Okay, let’s get one thing straight here, buddy: just because we had sex on your dining room table does not mean you know me. It definitely doesn’t give you the right to therapize me.”
He just stays where he is, looking up at me with cool amusement. “Sounds like I hit a nerve.”
I glower at him. “You think you’re so different? What makes you think fucking a different girl every night is any different than staying away from relationships altogether? Just because you’re surrounded by people all the time doesn’t mean you’re not lonely.”
“Now, who’s trying to therapize whom?”
“Am I wrong?”
Uri rises to his feet slowly, getting taller and taller until I have to crane my neck back just to look at him. His expression is unreadable, so I have no idea if I’ve hit a nerve or completely missed the mark. He crowds closer until his bulk and his scent is all I can take in. “I fuck because I want to fuck. End of story.”
Is it possible that all that calm confidence is a mask? I decide to test the theory by hedging a little closer and glaring up at him as though the proximity doesn’t bother me at all.
Sidenote: it totally does.
“Please. You think you’re so complicated to figure out? Well, I’ve got news for you, Uri Bugrov: there’s a reason you sleep with every woman only once.”