Page 82 of Miss Trust

Tory

The problem was me getting attached. Of course, I could never tell him this was anything more than sex, but this was annoyingly becoming more than sex. It was the sensation of him kissing behind my ear like he was now. It was his warmth as he snuggled me into his body. It was the scent of him, masculine and uniquely Chance. It was the way he was easy to talk to, asking questions as if he wanted to discover what made me tick. It was both thrilling and terrifying.

What if he didn’t share my feelings? What if this shift to something deeper today was only in my head? Yet here he was in his bed waiting for me. He hadn’t stayed at his club. He hadn’t gone to his fuck pad to be with someone else. But if I went and let myself think for a moment I was somehow special to him, would I be setting myself up for heartbreak? Yep. I sure would.

I tried to remind myself of this as we lay in postcoital bliss, naked and entwined in his bed.

“Did we work out your problem?” he asked, amusement lacing his words.

“I think we may have contributed to it.” Anxiety was starting to take hold, so I moved to leave.

But he wasn’t having it. “No, you don’t. I can practically feel the tension creeping into your body. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I fibbed.

He nipped my neck. “Sweet. Little. Liar.” He moved above me, his forearms braced beside my head, his hips spreading my legs. “I get tested regularly. I’m clean.”

Wait. What was he saying? My eyes went wide. “You want to go without a condom? But I’m not on the pill.”

“I had a vasectomy years ago.”

This was news. “I’m clean too, but—”

“But what?” He took himself in hand, teasing my entrance with his crown.

“But this is what people do who are exclusive.”

“Okay. Let’s be exclusive.”

“But exclusivity is what people do who are in a relationship.”

Why wasn’t this freaking him out the way it was freaking me out? Didn’t he understand the significance?

“Call it what you want to. I’m the only man you’re sleeping with.”

Annoyance over his alpha statement took hold. “I’m aware. But I’m also not the one with a fuck pad above a club I own.”

“I haven’t been inside that room since before I met you. It’s only been you, Tory.”

“Why?” It didn’t make sense. He had his choice among all the women throwing themselves at him.

“Do you think we could table this conversation until I’m not on the edge of pressing inside of you bare?”

I hooked my legs around his hips and pulled him into me, enjoying the whoosh from his lungs. “Yeah, we can table it.”

Table it to never.

* * *

The next morningI was in the kitchen, busily overthinking this exclusive non-relationship with Chance, when the source of both my anxiety and pleasure walked in. I hadn’t expected to see him, assuming he’d be heading to the club or somewhere else.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted. He gave a smile to Penny, one to Mona, and finally one for me.

My knees went weak. What the actual fuck? How was this a real thing?

Mona chatted with him while he fixed a cup of coffee. I put a bowl of berries in front of Penelope before returning to the sink to wash my hands. I stepped into the walk-in pantry to put away the cereal when Chance suddenly came in after me and shut the door.

“What are you doing?”