Sofia shrugs. “If you want to win, sometimes you have to play dirty.”
I shake my head. “I prefer a different kind of dirty.” I drink my beer, then explain why the idea leaves such a bad taste in my mouth. “A few years ago, I was seeing a woman named Rebecca. We met at a conference.”
She chuckles. “Professional conferences are as fertile mating grounds as swinger parties.”
I laugh, agreeing with her. “I didn’t go into details with her about Jenny, but I made it clear we were strictly casual.”
“Of course you did.”
“Anyway, she said she was fine with that. We hooked up twice—and then she started pulling all kinds of sneaky shit. Dropping hints about other guys she was seeing, making plans with me, then breaking them—trying to play hard to get—while at the same time finding excuses to randomly drop by the apartment. She became clingy and her games were annoying. The whole thing just made her seem . . . pathetic. I ended it real quick.”
“Did it bother you that she disrupted the ‘strictly casual’ by falling for you, or that she tried to manipulate you into returning her feelings?” Sofia asks.
“Both, I guess.”
Sofia nods with understanding. “The direct approach it is, then. So I’m there to . . .”
“You’re there to make sure I don’t stick my foot in my mouth or up someone’s ass. To keep me on track. Jenn and I have a long history together, and we have Presley. She said she’s only been seeing James Dean for a few months, so I can’t believe that any feelings she has for him could be anywhere as strong as what she feels for me. I think this whole thing is her cry for help, really.”
“You think she’s feeling neglected?”
“Exactly. So I’ll show her she’s got my attention.”
She takes a long swig of her wine, draining half the glass. “And after that? Do you think you’ll . . . propose to Jenny?”
I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I rub the back of my neck. “It’s complicated. I don’t want her marrying anyone else, that’s for damn sure. But . . . Presley’s still in school; I don’t know if they’d want to move to DC now. I always pictured Jenny and me getting married . . . later. When we’re older.”
Her brows rise to her hairline. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are older.”
“I’m in my prime.”
“That’s kind of my point.”
I stand up. “The bottom line is, everything’s on the table. If proposing to Jenny keeps her from marrying Sausage Link—then I’ll do what I have to do.”
“Wow.” Sofia snorts. “You’re so romantic. How could any woman resist that?”
I flip her the bird and smirk. “The romance is in the doing—not the talking.”
With that case closed, I hit the shower.
? ? ?
When I emerge from the steamy bathroom, Sofia’s already under the covers. The light of the late-night news muted on the television casts the room in a quiet, shadowy glow. I drop the towel from around my hips on the floor and slide between the sheets.
She’s facing away from me, her brown hair fanned out across the pillow. And it occurs to me that we had dinner—but no dessert.
Dessert was always my favorite.
I slip down the bed, taking the covers with me, and come eye level with the silk-covered swell of Sofia’s ass. I skim the material up to her waist, baring smooth skin unhindered by panties. My heart beats faster, pumping blood lower, and I press my lips to one cheek, nipping playfully with my teeth.
“Stanton.”
It’s not an urging moan, but a crisp statement. A no.
I pull back. “What’s wrong?”
She pushes her nightshirt back down, covering herself, and turns my way. I slide back up, resting my head on the pillow, just inches from her beautiful face.
“I don’t think we should have sex while I’m home with you.”