I lick my lips, cross my legs, and take a deep swig of my beer, internally berating myself to get my shit together.
“Fresh. Sleek,” he concludes thoughtfully.
“Yes, well. It’s very masculine. Just like you.” My eyes snap to his. Smug humor graces his every feature. “Fuck. Just … ” I look away, spinning the bottle again, trying not to be overwhelmed by sitting across from him at a small dining table. “I’m nervous. You make me nervous.”
“Why?” He doesn’t budge, keeping his focus entirely on me.
Because I’m endlessly horny, and have you met yourself?
“This situation makes me nervous,” I clarify instead of blurting out the first thought that runs through my mind.
For once.
“Okay,” he leans back in his chair, appearing so relaxed. I envy his level of confidence. “Let’s talk it out. Plan it. Lay it all on the line.”
I nod, nibbling at my lip, trying not to let my eyes take the slide back down his body again. “Yes. We need some ground rules.”
He leans forward now, elbows propped on the table, mug between his big palms. I stare.
I wish I was that mug.
“No anal sex, Bailey,” he deadpans. “I know you’re really interested, but I’m just not that into it.”
I jolt, eyes about to bug out of my head. My hand shoots up over my lips, and I force myself to swallow the beer in my mouth so I don’t spray it all over him. “Oh my god!” I say from behind my fingers. “It was just a question!”
“Yup. A question that no other person has just casually lobbed out to me.”
“Well, who else am I supposed to ask?”
“Google?”
I lean back in the chair, groaning as I stare up at the ceiling. “It didn’t seem like a weird question in the moment.”
Truthfully, I enjoy watching him react. He’s so … unaffected by me all the time. But when I ask questions like that, I get a reaction. It’s like proof of life.
“Really?” He’s laughing at me now. And who could blame him? He must think I’m nuts.
“No, I just saw the video, and it got me thinking. It was funny. And you seem experienced, so I wanted to know. You could have told me it was personal if you didn’t want to answer.”
On a chuckle, he says, “Have you had anal sex, Bailey?”
I snort and tip my chin back down to meet his gaze. “I haven’t had any sex, Beau.”
All the humor that laced his body moments ago drains away. I swear I watch it just—poof—evaporate.
“Any sex?” He looks incredulous.
“None. Big fat zero. Felt like I should lay that out on the table if we’re being honest with each other tonight.”
“How?” His eyes spark with interest. Not disgust or pity, just … disbelief. “Aren’t you twenty-two?”
“Yes, but I don’t know. I just don’t go anywhere. The opportunity hasn’t presented itself and I don’t want to tick it off like an item on a grocery list. And … who is there? In this town, it’s people who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole or people who want to touch me just to say they did.”
I hold up a finger like I’m having an aha! moment. “In fact, that was the last bet I was unknowingly involved in. So, yeah, I need there to be a very clear plan so nothing gets confused.”
So my feelings don’t get hurt.
He stares at me for several beats, a glint of steel in his silver eyes. His jaw pops as his teeth grind, and I can’t help but notice the way his long fingers flex around his mug, like he’s envisioning strangling someone. “We’re not going to have sex, Bailey. That’s not the point of this arrangement.”
I’m slightly disappointed by the conviction with which he conveyed that message. But it also puts me at ease. Honestly, part of what kept me up last night was worrying about how far we’d have to take the act.
And how I’d keep from getting attached if we took it too far.
“Let’s just keep anything physical public. Does that work? Has anyone kissed you?”
I give him a droll look, offense flaring in my chest. “Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I’ve been living in a bubble,” I bite back. “I just haven’t found someone I want to go all the way with. But I want to.”
“Bailey.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “God. It’s like you have no filter around me at all.”
I chuckle and glance toward the plush sectional in the living room, envisioning us cuddling there. The weight of his body against mine. The way he might roll me under him and—