“I thought I was pretty impressive at dinner with you tonight. I didn’t spill any red sauce on myself. I didn’t tell any embarrassing stories, and I spoke in complete and intelligible sentences the entire time,” she says, poking fun at herself.

I manage a small laugh, trying to let go of whatever weirdness is ping-ponging inside my head. “You were pretty damn impressive.”

“You know what this means, then?” she asks, a knowing grin on her face.

“Nope.”

“C’mon. Try,” she says, elbowing my ribs.

I draw a blank. “No clue. Coming up empty.”

“But I thought you liked puzzles,” she says, with a quirk in her lips.

“I do, but I can’t solve this,” I admit, my tone clipped. I don’t know how to play her game.

She tsks me. “It means,” she says, stopping, stepping closer, and grabbing the neck of my shirt, “that last night in your hotel was our first date, and this is our second date. And you know what third date protocol is.”

Schwing!

The decoder ring worked! I get it. She’s donned her Princess of Innuendo cape tonight, and she wants to fuck tomorrow. And that’s what I’m going to focus on. Not this dating shit that’s vexing me. Besides, there’s no need to be pissy when I’m going to have her coming all over my cock in less than twenty-four hours.

Ah, there. I feel so much better with that image front and center in my head. Thank you very much, brain.

I loop an arm around her waist. “I do, indeed, know what third date protocol is, and I intend to give you the full and proper treatment.”

Then, because I want to give her a taste of what tomorrow will be like, and maybe, too, because I want to remind her that I can wind her up in a second, I kiss the hell out of her on the streets of Manhattan, yanking her close to me. She grinds her pelvis against my growing hard-on, and I’m about to whisper dirty things in her ear about how wet she’s getting. But I don’t want to end the kiss yet. I don’t want to stop at all, and she doesn’t seem to either.

Until a bus rumbles by, spewing out a thick plume of exhaust that ruins the moment.

Her phone buzzes as we separate, and she grabs it from her purse.

Her mouth forms a surprised O as she scans her screen. “It’s Simon.”

I clench my fists and look away. My jaw is set hard, and I hate the reminder right now. He’s the guy she’s really into. Fuck, he’s the one I’m training her for, right? For a moment, I wish that he doesn’t really like her, that he’ll let her down, that he’ll hurt her and she’ll run back to me. But I feel awful wanting that for her.

“How is Mr. Hemsworth?” I ask, barely masking the bitterness in my tone.

“It’s just a confirmation of the party info,” she says gently. “It’s later this week. Saturday morning, actually.” She shows me the text, and it’s not as if I need to see it. It really is only a work message, and I feel like a schmuck for letting my misplaced jealously shine through.

But another note pops up on her screen.

Would you like to get a coffee sometime soon? :)

He used a fucking emoticon. I can’t believe it. I want to punch the air in victory, because that is complete and absolute grounds for a revocation of his man-card. “What’s with the smiley face?”

“It’s cute,” she says, and she sounds a little dreamy, like she likes him.

That’s it. I snap. “Don’t go. Don’t fuck him.”

She wrenches back and looks at me as if I’ve sprouted two heads. Snake heads, based on the vitriol in my tone. She parks her hands on her hips. “What the hell does that mean, Nick?”

I scrub a hand over my jaw. I try to let go of the jealousy, but it’s not a green-eyed monster for nothing. “Just not yet, okay? Don’t fuck him while we’re fucking,” I say, keeping my words as crass as can be. I can’t let her see that the thought of anyone else touching her eats me alive.

“I would never do that.” Her tone is full of hurt.

“Well, how do I know?”

She pushes my chest, shoves me hard. “Get real. Seriously. I told you I haven’t slept with anyone in a few years. I told you I barely know what I’m doing in bed. I’m not going to sleep with you and someone else at the same time. I’m not even going to date him right now.” She slices a hand through the air. “I would never be with you and someone else. Never.”

And I’m an asshole.

“I wouldn’t, either,” I say softly. “I don’t want to be with anyone else right now, either, and I didn’t mean to suggest you would.”

She stares at me and exhales. Her eyes seem to soften, but she crosses her arms over her chest. I’m not forgiven yet.

I reach out and wrap my arms around her. She lets me hold her, but doesn’t reciprocate. “It’s just we never said we wouldn’t while we do this.” Whatever this is.

“I didn’t think we had to. Isn’t it obvious we won’t? I won’t. You won’t. It’s that simple. It’s not even a rule we need to establish. It’s just an is.”

And fuck, the way she says that, so certain and determined, so clear on who she is, hooks into my chest.

I am so utterly fucked with this girl. And I don’t just mean fucked in that way. I mean it in every way.

* * *

After I return to my home, I text her.