Mr. Imperfect

chapter 32



Going clubbing made Rori feel old. What had been so exciting just a few years ago now felt tired and a bit dirty, like a carnival that was shiny in the nighttime but turned drab and a little sad in the light of day. Although she was clearly in the minority in her sentiment. Certainly Fredrik didn’t share her thoughts as he flirted away with a fireman on the other side of the booth. How the two of them were able to hear each other over the deafening music was beyond her.

Rori had a fireman of her own sharing a seat with her. Handsome, athletic, great smile, but no spark. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Her type. No spark. Here she was trying to do an exhibit on connecting and she was having trouble connecting with one of the most beautiful men in the room. Then again, he was just another man looking to get laid and move on. That was the only connection he was looking for. And while that might have been exciting in college, Rori considered more practical things these days. Things like disease, reputation, and self-respect. And there wasn’t much self-respect to be had in becoming a tick mark on a man’s tally sheet. Rori may not believe in love, but she did prefer if the men she let inside her had an ounce of respect for her when all was said and done.

As a rule, men who pushed their tongues in a woman’s mouth within fifteen minutes of meeting her weren’t overflowing with respect. They wanted one thing and one thing alone.

Connection.

This was the primal part of her theme, Rori thought as her tongue jousted with the fireman’s. Miles. His name was Miles. Not that he cared if she knew that or not.

Primal connection would certainly have to play its role in her exhibit. It merely came down to level of taste. How literal should she be? She’d never taken her art to an overtly sexual place before. Yes, she’d done sensual, but that was very different. One implied, the other depicted.

Was she at a place in her life where she was prepared to depict the act that sent millions to bars every night? The thing that made pornography the most lucrative industry on the planet and prostitution the oldest profession in the world? And if she was ready to depict it, was she also ready to capture the shades of that connection—both the intimate and, well, what she was currently experiencing? Basic, detached friction.

While she considered that, Miles guided her hand under the table and to the bulge in his pants. On instinct, her hand explored what it found there. The man was hung and he knew it. He also seemed to know that the first thing Rori would do after feeling him would be to imagine him inside her, and his kissing technique adjusted to help her imagine just that.

Yes, Miles had been around the block. No doubt sex with him would be eventful. But would it be worth it? Mutual orgasms, and then what? They both thank each other for the freebie, grab their clothes and go?

Only then did Rori realize that what Miles was offering her wasn’t a level of connection she was looking for anymore, no matter how much Fredrik teased her about it. So Rori hadn’t had sex in a while. So what? Was it a sin that the only man she wanted inside of her from here on out was a man who was willing to deal with what the sex act was intended for.

Kids.

Rori wanted a baby, not just the act of making one. And she needed to act on that realization while she was still capable of thinking.

“I need to go,” she said, pulling away.

Miles foggy eyes registered the words, but not their meaning and he smiled suggestively. “Yeah? Want me to give you a ride?”

Nice double entendre. No doubt he had used it many times before. “I’m sorry, but no. The night is young, though. I’m sure you’ll find someone else.”

Rori slid out of the booth before Miles could reach for and sent a little wave to Fredrik. The music was way too loud for him to hear anything she said, so she simply mouthed Sorry and headed for the door.

“Is she serious?” she heard Miles say, and kept on walking. The man was mad. Maybe he had a right to be, but he would certainly get over it. Rori had made it all the way to the exit when Fredrik caught up her.

“Honey, are you high?” he said as they stepped outside. “You landed yourself the cream of the crop in there.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’d seriously rather be working. This isn’t my scene anymore.”

Fredrik pressed his hand to her forehead. “Are you ill? Do we need to go to the doctor?”

No, I’m just not in college anymore. She nearly said it out loud, but she didn’t want to offend her friend. “No, I’m just a few months away from one of the largest shows in my life. That’s where my head’s at. Not in navigating one-night stands.”

Fredrik’s eyes narrowed on her, lips pursing. “I see.”

Did he? Because Rori wasn’t sure she liked how he was looking at her.

“Your heart’s just not in it,” he added.

Okay, maybe he did have an idea. “Exactly. I can’t play this game anymore. Not when I’m looking for something real.”

He nodded sagely. “Say no more. Fredrik sees all.”

Well, that had been easier than expected. “Are you going to be okay here without me?”

“Honey, I was just about to ditch you. Trust me, I’ll be just fine. Let’s get you a cab.”

Rori smiled. “You’re a pal. But no more clubbing for me, okay? Parties, sure. Dates, fine. But not this scene.”

“Understood,” he said. “Not until September.”

Rori meant to correct him, but he stepped out into the street to hail a cab with immediate results. “Your carriage, m’lady.”