Page 29 of Man Candy (After We Fall 1)
A look of surprise flitted across her face. “Happy?” she repeated, as if she’d never considered the question. “Sure, I guess so. Happy for now, anyway. But what else is there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Happiness is always a ‘for now’ thing, isn’t it? People think, ‘What do I want right now? Oh, this candy bar. Those shoes. That purse. Another piece of cake. Another piece of ass.’” She spanked her hip and gave me a coy smile. “But what we want changes over time, so what makes us happy changes over time.”
I thought about that. “But don’t you think it’s possible to know that something or someone would always make you happy?”
“To know it for sure?” She thought for a second, her green eyes serious. “No. I don’t. Do you?”
“Sure, I do. I mean, I’ve never experienced it for myself, but I have faith it exists.”
She gave me a patronizing smile, as if I’d just told her I still believed in Santa Claus. “That’s so cute.”
“OK. I’ll prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“I’ll show you that real love exists. I’ll make you believe.”
She stood up, her smile gone. “Really, that’s not necessary.”
“Scared to take the bet?”
“I’m not scared of anything! I just don’t think there’s any way to prove what you’re saying.”
“Chicken.”
She started for the door. “I have to go upstairs for a minute.”
I jumped off the couch and pushed the door closed when she tried to open it.
“Hey,” she said, annoyed.
“Come on. Dare me to prove love is real.”
She sighed, her expression pained. “No, Quinn, because you’ll only do stupid things to try and make me fall for you, and I’ll just get annoyed. The sex was so great today. This could be fun between us. Let’s not ruin it.”
I smiled. “I swear I will not do anything to make you fall for me—unless giving you a lot of orgasms is on that list. Because that, I’m going to do.”
Her jaw dropped for a second, and then she gave me a flirty smile. “OK then. I dare you.”
Ten
JAIME
I hurried up the stairs to my flat, buoyed by the phrase “giving you a lot of orgasms.” Damn, that sounded good.
In fact, the more I thought about it, this whole setup was fantastic.
I had the hottest piece of ass ever living right downstairs, and he clearly understood my boundaries, even if he’d made fun of them.
Whatever—he’d thank me when it was time for him to move out and our little fling had run its course. A month was perfect! That’s about as long as I liked my fuck flings to last anyway. Any longer and you were looking at relationship status, which was no good, because it led to expectations and resentment, the inevitable accusations and accompanying guilt, and finally the tragic ending.
Fuck that—I was saving us both from a stupid breakup fight that would make Owens family functions awkward for years to come if he stuck around here.
We’d have unattached, meaningless yet magnificent sex for a few weeks, and then get out of each other’s way. It was perfect…as long as he didn’t try to fuck it up. I was a little worried about those dates he wanted, because I wasn’t totally convinced he wouldn’t try to muddy the waters with hearts and flowers, which would completely kill my lady boner and ruin the fun.
And what about the whole “I can prove love exists” thing? Was he nuts? There was no way on Earth to prove that love either did or didn’t exist, was there? What the hell was he going to do? For heaven’s sake, look at the home he’d come from—his father had abandoned his mother when he was just a baby. What had that taught him about romantic love?
