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“Wait.” I lurch out of bed and reach for my sweatpants, all but jumping into them to follow. “I’ll drive you home.”
She’s already at the foyer, donning her shoes and opening the front door. “No need. I called an Uber. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”
I don’t want her to go, but I can’t force her to stay. After all, she gave me most of yesterday. Maybe she genuinely has things to do today. Besides, there’s always tomorrow and next weekend…and maybe longer, right? My determination that last night should be the last we ever spend together? No. Ridiculous. I need more of her. I don’t know where this thing between us is going, but I’m not giving her up. “Okay. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”
When I lean in to kiss her, she pecks my cheek and backs away. “And…thank you.”
“For what?” For the mind-boggling pleasure we shared? For truly connecting, despite the fact we started sleeping together because of a silly proposition?
“For being the best hit-it-and-quit-it teacher. You’re amazing.” She sends me a semismile I don’t really understand, then ducks out the door.
Dumbfounded, I watch her walk down the hallway and disappear inside the elevator. Then she’s gone.
With numb fingers, I close the door and sag back against it. Did that just happen? Did Kiera run out of here like she couldn’t ditch me fast enough?
Yeah. The moment I think there could be something real between me and a woman I’m actually developing feelings for, she reminds me that, besides being her boss, I’m merely her fuck buddy. Her hit-it-and-quit-it teacher.
I’m nothing.
Isn’t irony a bitch? I’m finally falling again…only to bet my heart on a woman who’s determined to give up on love.
Friday, May 27
Jonathan
“C’mon, there has to be someone you find attractive,” my best friend encourages as he looks over the crowd in Ian’s bar.
The place is hopping, and I see a lot of curls, tight dresses, and stilettos. The scenery is nice, no denying. I just don’t care. In the past week since Kiera left my apartment before dawn, I’ve felt detached about life, like a disinterested spectator rather than the person living it.
I shrug. “Tonight isn’t my night, I guess.”
Earlier, I agreed to come out with Jake, sure that a good drink and a good lay would cure me of obsessing about my assistant and what she might be doing now. But a few hours and a few drinks later, all I’ve managed to do is get buzzed and feel even more like a fool for wanting her. Last Sunday morning, I was ready to put my heart on the line. What she said completely crushed me.
Thanks for being the best hit-it-and-quit-it teacher. You’re amazing.
Those words roll around in my head over and over like a clip from a bad movie on repeat. My grip on my glass of scotch tightens.
God, I’m a stupid chump. I’m the one who told her not to let her emotions get involved…and then I did exactly what I warned her against. During those heady moments I had Kiera in my arms, I would have sworn what she and I had was more than a proposition. But, once again, when it comes to love, I was totally fucking wrong.
Jake scowls. “What? Every night is your night, J. Maybe you should let me pick someone for you.”
Unless she’s petite, brunette, and her name is Kiera, I’m not interested.
“Sure. Whatever…”
“All right. Let me work my magic.” He scans the bar until someone catches his eye. “Oh, hot babe about five stools to the left.”
I turn in that direction. A brunette with blonde highlights and bold makeup sits alone, looking down at her phone. There’s no denying the girl is attractive in a white dress, all decked out in red lipstick and bling. There’s nothing wrong with her at all except…
She isn’t Kiera.
All I seem to care about—think about—is that woman. How is she doing? Is she staying in tonight…or did she go out? Could she be out looking for her very own one-night stand? Is she thinking about me at all? Does she know how much her words hurt me?
More than anything, I’m frustrated. Why can’t I mentally let go of a woman who doesn’t really want me?
“If you think she’s hot, you go shoot your shot.” Deflecting Jake will probably be more successful than pretending I’m not infatuated with my assistant.
“Dude, I’ve already caught my fish for the night.” He indicates to the redhead under his arm with a grin. “Time for you to go, um…cast your rod.”
