Page 101 of The Stranger

“Well, I’m telling you right now. You can’t.”

“Do you think a man can fake that?”

This draws her attention, her eyes flashing angrily. “I expect you’ve had a lot of practice.”

I’m not sure she appreciates my laughter. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”

At this, she snorts, unimpressed.

“I’ve fucked a lot of women.”

Her eyes flash angrily.

“Which, I think, makes me more than qualified to know how special last night was.” I hold her gaze, letting the silence between us stretch. “You felt it. I know you did.”

Her lips part, but then she shakes her head. “It didn’t mean anything. Not to me.”

“It meant enough that you’re standing here right now trying very hard to convince us both of the opposite.” I step closer, and she doesn’t resist as I take her chin between my fingers. “Be honest with yourself,” I chide. “Even if you can’t be honest with me.”

She says nothing for a beat as the scent of orange blossom and rosemary drifts in on a scant breeze.

“I am,” she says eventually.”

“Non. You’re being careful and that’s not the same thing.”

“I missed that lesson last night, being careful.” She pulls away, and the look she slides over her shoulder couldn’t be less complimentary. “Given where we first met.”

Another laugh erupts from me, this one harsher and less amused. “You really are determined to put me in my place, aren’t you?”

“Someone should’ve done it long before now.”

“Rest assured, lots of people have tried.”

Her lovely lips draw together like the strings of a purse.

“But, please, don’t let me stop you. I will, however, just remind you of how you begged.” She gives a sharp intake of breath as I spin her to face me. “It was reckless, we can both acknowledge that,” I add heatedly. “But save your worries. The last woman I fucked without protection is dead.”

If nothing else she looks chastened.

I’m not a fool. I know there can be nothing between us in the real sense. But how she’d gazed at me as she came, part astonishment, part temptation, is a sight I won’t ever forget.

If not life-altering, the experience was life affirming.

“I thought we’d reached an understanding last night,” I begin again, the heat dying from my words. “Neither of us are looking for a forever.” I pause, not sure I want to go on. But I owe her honesty, if nothing else. “I thought I had that once. I was wrong. In Paris...” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “You were looking for an experience. A night where no one knew you. Where no one expected anything from you.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “You don’t know anything about who or what I am.”

“I know you walked into that club for a reason.”

“I told you, she says, swinging to face me now. “It was a mistake.”

“Initially, perhaps. But you watched. We both did.” My gaze lingers on her mouth. The mark on her neck. “We were both there to step outside our lives for a little while.”

“I told you, it was a mistake.”

“I’m not asking you to fall in love with me⁠—”

“Ha!”