Page 78 of Sin for You

My stomach was in knots when she finally walked out, eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.

“Why are you dressed?” I shoved back the covers and strode across the room toward her. I had to fix this. I wasn’t ready for this to end, not yet, but when she looked up at me, I knew that was exactly what was going to happen. “Sweets?”

“I’m going back to my room.”

Still, I pushed, hoping she’d give me something, some small scrap, something more. “Why?”

“I, ah…” She bit her lip.

“You’re spooked. What just happened…it’s not—”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just feel like sleeping on my own.” She smiled, and it was false as hell. “I mean, you must be getting sick of me, right? This is just a casual thing and I’ve been occupying all of your time. You probably have things you want to do.”

I clenched my teeth at her not so subtle reminder of our casual status. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Not now, obviously. I mean during the day…or in the evenings. Spend time with your friends or Cal and Dane or whatever.”

She was pulling away, freaking out, and I couldn’t really blame her. I’d broken the rules. I’d developed feelings for her. No, I hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d seen it, and she was running scared.

“What are you saying?” I said and tucked her wild hair behind her ear. Christ, I just needed to touch her. Seeing her like this, with those words coming out of her mouth, I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to lift her up and put her back in my bed and fuck her again until she forgot what just happened.

Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I just think that maybe we should…step back a little bit, cool things down.” She laughed a little and it sounded wrong. “I mean, I’ve been with you every night this week.”

“So?” I bit out, the pain in my chest coming through loud and clear in my voice.

Her eyes came back to me. “Well, that’s not normal, right? For people who are seeing each other casually.”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Well, you were seeing Lynette—”

“I don’t want to talk about goddamned Lynette. There is nothing about that situation and ours that is remotely the same.”

She crossed her arms, retreating farther still. “You weren’t serious with her, it was just sex…and so are we, so—”

“You’re more to me than just sex, Quinn, and you fucking know it. I’ve known you for a long time, we’re…friends. I don’t see what the problem is here.”

“We weren’t really—friends, I mean. You were my brother’s best friend and I was his annoying little sister. You felt responsible for me and now we’re…something else.”

I shoved my fingers through my hair in frustration. “Okay, so what are you saying, Quinn, because I’m having trouble following?”

“I just think we should, um…cool things down. Like once every other week or maybe once a month we get together to do…this.” She motioned to the bed. “I’m leaving soon, so we could hook up when I come home to Rocktown. Then the rest of the time we just go back to the way we always were.”

“Once a month? When you’re home?” I growled. “You want to put some kind of schedule on when we fuck? Like we sit down and sync up our calendars, make some kind of fucking timetable?”

Her eyes were darting around the room. “Why not? It’s just sex. Why not treat it like any other appointment?”

“You have got to be shitting me. So you’re asking me to work with you every day, at least until you piss off back to the city, and pretend I don’t know what it’s like to be inside you, not kiss or touch you until our allotted sex appointment every month?” I was making this worse, without doubt. Christ, I needed to back off, but fear that I was losing her drove me on.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” she said, the wariness back in her eyes.

“Am I?” I said, disbelief clear in my voice.

“And you knew I was going back to Portland. We agreed this would be casual, you agreed, now you…you want more of me than I’m willing to give.”

Ouch. “Because I don’t want my sex life scheduled? Because I can’t just turn it off and on to suit some fucking timetable? Because I want to be able to kiss you when I’m feeling it and not when it’s written on a calendar?”

“You’re making this harder, more complicated, than it needs to be.”