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“Fuck that. I don’t want steady. I want to fuck you until you can’t stand up.” He slides out from the sheets, padding around the bed to stand, stark naked, in front of me. My eyes are drawn to his thick thighs and the forest tattoos inked there. “So, same time tonight?”

“I can’t do tonight. Maybe next week.” I can’t look him in the eye–if I do, he might convince me. I need to step back and work out exactly what’s happening here and what I want to happen.

His sigh is heavy. “I’m not asking you to marry me. Don’t deny yourself pleasure because you don’t do commitment. We can find our own way of making this work.” His hand gestures between our bodies.

“I need to think about it.” Perhaps we can do the casual thing on the regular, or perhaps I should never see him again.I don’t want that. I have to see him again.

“Don’t take too long,” he says gruffly before adding, “text me.” He gathers me up in his arms, lifting me off my feet as he squeezes me. He lowers me, placing a kiss on my forehead, and pats me on the bum.

“Make sure you eat, Abby.” His tone is brusque, which seems to have a direct link to my eyes rolling.

“Will do. I’ll maybe catch you later,” I say, heading out of the suite and towards my place. I just have to hope that the distance will help me overcome this confusion.I want to see him again, but should I?

Chapter twelve

Abby

I’m still mulling it all over a few days later. It’s been going around in circles in my head.

I don’t know what to think. What to feel. What does it matter that he wasn’t honest with me? It’s not like we’re in a relationship. But it hurts. Hurts to know he’s not been open with me. I have to give an unhumorous laugh because, how for one second can I expect him to be open and honest with me when he didn’t know my name until the other day? He still doesn’t know where I work or live.

Fuck.Why does this even matter? I can walk away now. None of it matters.

But we had fun. And there’s a part of me that wants to spend more time with him. This all feels so new to me, although I have to admit that I want to see where it goes.

Before I drive myself insane with all the back and forth, I pull my phone out of my pocket as I walk to the bar for my afternoon shift and shoot off a text to the Smut Club group:

Me:

Hey, any chance of an impromptu catch up tonight? I need a distraction and have an AITA question.

I really need to know if I’m the arsehole in this situation and I can trust my friends to be honest with me. Cassidy’s reply is fast.

Cassidy:

I can make it. I was planning to come to the bar tonight with Jack. Are you working?

Me:

Yeah, but Tom said I can finish early – around 8 pm if it’s not busy.

Mel:

I can make it. Be good to get out the house. What makes you an arsehole?

Me:

Let me get my head straight, and I’ll try to explain later.

There’s no reply from Laura, but at this time of the day, she’s likely to be deep into inking someone’s skin. Hopefully, I’ll hear from her later.

With a bit of luck, I’ll be able to round them all up. I could really use some external input on this whole Cameron situation.

We decide to stay at the bar. If I’m not working, I may as well put some money in the till. Carl stays ten minutes later to makeus all a snack platter to share. I’m munching on onion rings and drinking a glass of Pinot Grigio when Laura and Mel walk in together.

I look Mel over, spotting the darker smudges under her eyes and realising her spark is still missing. She’s engrossed in whatever Laura is saying to her.

“I’m worried about her,” Cassidy says quietly from beside me as she chows down on a mozzarella stick.