Her expression grew cloudy. Perching her hands on her hips, she searched his face, then frowned as if she didn’t like what she saw. “Don’t you dare tell me what happened just now was a mistake. You know you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
He couldn’t deny that even if he tried, but that didn’t alter the fact that he’d totally screwed up. He’d promised Carson he wouldn’t touch Jen, and horn dog that he was, he’d caved the second she’d placed that dainty hand of hers on his dick.
“It can’t happen again,” he said in a firm voice.
“Like hell it can’t.”
Frustration jammed in his throat. “I’m not good at relationships. And I’m not looking for one right now.”
“I don’t want a relationship either. I already told you, I don’t date military guys. So relax, okay? All I want from you is more of what we did on the couch right now. Sex, cowboy. Just sex.”
“Sex,” he echoed warily.
“Look, I’ve had three lovers and the sex sucked with all of them.” Aggravation creased her forehead. “I don’t want someone who’ll hold my hand and shower me with sweet words or kisses. I want someone who’ll fuck my brains out.”
Cash blinked in surprise.
“I just dated a psycho. Do you honestly think I’m in the mood to open myself up to another guy right now? This won’t be a relationship, cowboy. I’m not handing you my heart and pleading with you not to break it. I’m asking you to rock my world for the next few weeks.”
He choked out a laugh. “Is that all?”
“No.” She arched one brow. “I also want you to teach me how to rock your world. I want us to do all the things I’ve always wanted to try, and pretty much see how many times we can make each other come in three weeks.”
Cash swallowed. Hard.
“Three weeks,” she said flippantly. “It’ll just be a little fling, Cash. We’ll have sex, hang out, and then I’ll move out and we say goodbye.”
He hesitated. If his lower body was in charge of making the decision, it would be a no-brainer. Fling. Sex. Make each other come. That’s all his dick had needed to hear.
But his brain told him this was a bad idea. Not to mention ridiculously unrealistic. A fling with an end date? Every fling he’d ever experienced, the woman ended up pushing for a relationship no matter what the initial agreement had been.
And even if Jen didn’t end up wanting more, he didn’t feel right about using her this way. Well, they’d be using each other, he amended, but still…it didn’t sit right with him.
Truth was, he liked her. He liked her a lot. He’d never had a woman worry about him before, the way Jen had when he’d come home feeling exhausted and suffering from a pounding headache. She’d given him a damn temple massage, for chrissake. A woman like Jen deserved to be worshipped, not fucked for three weeks and then discarded.
“I can see that sexy brain of yours working,” she said in irritation. “Don’t overthink this, Cash. Three weeks of sex, nothing more, nothing less. If it makes you feel better, we’ll even agree to remain friends afterwards.”
He cracked a smile.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “You know you want to say yes.”
And then, evil seductress that she was, she stepped closer and pressed her index finger to his chest, drawing little figure-eights between his pecs.
Cash groaned. “Carson’s going to kill me.”
“He’ll never have to know.”
“Fuck.”
She smirked. “Is that a yes?”
“No.” He cleared his throat but it still felt like someone had jammed a handful of gravel in there. “I mean, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Humor tinged her voice.
“Yes,” he said with a sigh.
“Yes?”
Smothering a curse, he yanked her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her long and deep, then pried his mouth away and repeated himself. “Yes.”
Her laughter tickled his chin. “Glory hallelujah.”
“So ’fess up, why are you really single?” Jen asked later that evening.
She and Cash were lying on the couch again, naked beneath a fleece blanket that he’d haphazardly wrapped around them. She still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to have a fling with her. She’d figured it would take a lot more convincing, but it appeared that all you needed to do was give a man a BJ and presto—he caved.
And thank God he had, because sex with Cash was everything she’d known it would be. A little rough, a tad demanding, a lot awesome. And nobody could accuse the man of being a selfish lover. He didn’t take his pleasure until he made sure she got off, and he seemed to really, really enjoy getting her off. Earlier, he’d had his head buried between her legs for a good forty minutes, bringing her to the brink only to retreat and start the slow, teasing torment all over again. The resulting orgasm had been more powerful than any she’d ever experienced.
Which raised the question she’d just voiced—why on earth was this man still single?
“Cash?” she prompted when he didn’t respond.
His hand absently toyed with a strand of her hair. “Like I said, I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Why not?”