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Her eyes narrow in confusion.

I continue, "I didn’t realize you had never kissed a man before, let alone anything else, so you telling me that after we had kissed was a bit of a shock."

"Oh." Her gaze drops and her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"It’s nothing to be embarrassed about," I assure her.

"Then why are you making it out to be such a big deal then?" She’s feisty now, challenging me in a way she hasn’t before, and as inappropriate as it might be in this situation, I’m fighting to keep my blood from rushing to my cock. Does she really have no idea how tempting she is?

"Because the idea of my lips being the first to touch yours has me wanting to do so much more than kiss you."

She blushes again, and I want nothing more than to thread my fingers through her hair and show her just how good I could make her feel.

"But, I already told you—I don’t do relationships. So, as much as I would love to show you all the filthy ways I’d love to touch you, I won’t, for your sake. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of relationship you want, Claire. I’m not that guy."

"Why? Why can’t you be that guy? Why are you so against relationships?"

As much as I’m sure she’d love for me to spill my secrets about my past, I’m not about to turn this into a fucking therapy session. The last thing I want to do is to tell her that I learned a long time ago, much earlier in my life than anyone should, that the more significant a relationship is, the worse it hurts when you’re fucked over. If I couldn’t rely on the woman who gave birth to me to love me enough to stay, why should I expect it from anyone else?

So instead I say, "They don’t really work out for me. I like keeping things solely physical. It’s a lot less complicated."

She shakes her head. "I’m not sure what you’ve been through, because it’s clearlysomething, but relationships don’t have to be complicated or filled with drama."

"And you would know, right? Tell me, what healthy representation of relationships have you seen in your own life? Because from what you’ve told me, it’s not anything better where you come from. The only difference is that I’m open about what I want."

She steps back as if she’s just been slapped. "So what? You’re going to compare one unhealthy relationship dynamic to another? The ones I’ve seen may be on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from what you do, but that doesn’t make one better than the other."

I take a step toward her, my voice dangerously calm despite my racing heart. Why the hell does this girl get under my skin so much? "What I do is not unhealthy. You want to know why? Because everything is consensual, and everyone participating is clear and open about what they hope to get from it, myself included. Women want me to make them come until they can’t think straight, and I happily oblige. Everyone walks away fulfilled and well-fucked." I’ve gotten closer to her as I’ve been speaking, and now we’re only inches apart. "Does that clear things up for you?"

Her eyes are wide as she stares up at me, and she swallows hard but maintains eye contact. "Partly."

"Partly?"

She nods and absentmindedly bites her lower lip.

"What part of that is still unclear to you?" I can’t resist the urge to touch her—I lift my hand and run a strand of her soft blonde hair between my fingers, loving the way her breathcatches on a sharp inhale.

I can tell she’s intimidated, but she still holds her ground, her eyes connected with mine while she wears a look of frustration. It’s a stark contrast to the quiet, scared woman I took in a couple months ago.

"It’s unclear why you’d still ignore feelings you have for good sex. I can’t claim to know what good sex is like, but I know you’re not immune to emotion even though you might act otherwise, and I’d be willing to bet that letting go emotionally would be more of a release for you than an orgasm is."

To my surprise, she takes a step backward, putting a few more inches of distance between us. And even though she’s dead-on in a way that’s kind of freaky, I can’t bring myself to fight back. She sees right fucking through me, and I have no rebuttal.

Gone is the meek, shy girl who was afraid to step a toe out of line, and in her place is a woman who is making herself heard despite how much it scares her. If her hands weren’t shaking right now, I’d have no clue she was nervous about this conversation, but I see through her act just as much as she apparently sees through mine.

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until she cocks an eyebrow at me. "What’s so funny?"

Despite the tension still thick in the air from our argument and our close proximity, I can’t help but fire her up just a little more. "I’m just proud of you. You said the word ‘orgasm’ without so much as blushing."

She rolls her eyes but ducks her head in an attempt to hide her flustered expression. "I’m going to make dinner. Are you going to stop being weird around me now that we got this out in the open?"

"Yes. I apologize for kissing you and making things weird."

She opens her mouth to say something else but snaps it shut again. "Okay," she says in a weirdly formal tone before spinning on her heel.

I chuckle and shamelessly watch her ass as she walks back toward the kitchen, though I immediately miss the heat of her small body so close to mine. I’ll at least admit to myself that I want this girl and would be more than happy to show her all the ways her body could feel pleasure. I’d fucking love to see her come apart over and over again under my touch.

However, I’m not willing to push her for any of that; It needs to be a decision she makes on her own. She knows my stipulations and my feelings about relationships, so unless she makes it clear that’s what she wants, I’ll be here acting like a respectable gentleman while spending my nights fucking my fist and imagining it’s her wrapped around my cock.