“You could never be disposable,” he says. “Anytime you’re feeling a little randy, give me a call. I’ll get you on the next flight down here.”
“So the plane only flies in one direction?”
He turns, his back against the island, elbows resting on the marble. “That’s where it gets tricky, you see, because if we’re flying back and forth to see each other, then we’re dipping our toes into long-distance-relationship territory and those things never end well for anybody.”
“I guess I just want to know what I mean to you. And I’m sorry if ‘fuck buddies’ aren’t supposed to sound like needy girlfriends. I promise I’m not that. It’s in my nature to need an explanation for everything.” I rinse the last plate and hand it to him to dry.
He pauses, his expression growing serious as he looks me in the eye. “Jesus, Delilah. Yes. You do mean something to me – in a way no one else ever has.”
My lower lip trembles and I close my eyes. I take a deep breath. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
I didn’t want to get attached.
I didn’t want to fall for him.
I didn’t want to crave those sweet declarations of affection from the one man who had no business doling them out.
“It’s just . . . the flowers, the wine, the romantic evening, and all the nice things you’ve been saying lately . . . it’s like you’re in a constant state of pursuing me.” I drain the sink, eyes locked on his. “And then you tack on that fuck buddy disclaimer every chance you get.”
His face scrunches. “I thought that’s what you wanted? I thought that was what we were doing? Sex and fun? No more fighting?”
My shoulders fall.
“It was. I mean, it is.” I glance away, out the kitchen window that frames his sparkling sapphire pool perfectly. This is what Daphne meant when she said to embrace the complicated, and here I am, running scared in the opposite direction. “Forget I said anything, all right? Sometimes I get too wrapped up in my own thoughts.”
He stands there, quietly staring at me, and my cheeks burn. “You still want to do this?”
I look up into those trademark honey-brown eyes of his and slowly nod, although my true answer might be best described as a mix between “yes” and “no.”
“Are you sure, Delilah? Are you really sure? Because I don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt another person I care about.” There he goes, sending mixed signals again.
“See.” I release an uneasy titter. “There you go, talking like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Saying you care about me and you don’t want to hurt me,” I say. “It makes me think your feelings for me are beyond . . .”
My voice fades and I untie the apron from behind my back. I feel ridiculous, standing here naked, my breasts spilling out of a chef’s apron that has the name “Javier’s Concierge Services” embroidered across the front.
It was cute for a hot minute, but I can’t stand here having this serious talk looking like I’m two seconds from getting nailed for the second time this morning. I need him to hear me, to take me seriously. I need real answers that don’t involve his eyes drifting into dangerous territory every chance they get.
“Delilah.” Zane takes my hands, wrapping them in his and pulling me to face him. “Stop overanalyzing everything to death. Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re killing this beautiful arrangement we have here. And goddamn, is it beautiful. Our chemistry . . . the attraction. The fire and ice. It’s perfection.”
“I just want to know if you’re going to miss it when it’s over. When I’m long gone, just some old, faded memory.”
“How could I not?” His hand sweeps across my jaw, and my gaze lands on his deep dimples. “Just. Have. Fun. We don’t have a lot of time left. Let’s not spend it worrying about the future. This is all we have. Right here. Right now. Have fun, Delilah. With me.”
“I’m trying,” I say. “But when you look at me like that and you say nice things, it’s kind of hard to separate and compartmentalize what my mind knows we are and what my body wants us to be, and then I have to factor in how my heart feels.”
“How does your heart feel?”
“Confused as hell.” My face winces.
His hands circle my waist, and he spins me around before lifting me up onto the counter. We’re almost eye to eye now.
For the first time since I’ve met this reformed asshole, I know one thing to be true . . .
I want to be Zane de la Cruz’s girlfriend.
I want to be the only girl he looks at the way he looks at me.
I want to be the only girl he’d even think about fucking.
I want to be the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last thing on his mind before he falls asleep.
And maybe I never should have agreed to this whole fuck buddy thing, but in my defense, I sort of stumbled into it, and I’m pretty sure it would take some kind of superhero strength to resist his charms anyway.
All these feelings eat me alive as I stand here in his presence with him, feeling like a million bucks and a hot mess all at the same time. Looking at him and knowing that six weeks from now, I’ll have to walk away with nothing but a pocketful of memories makes my chest ache and stifles my breath.
Never in my life did I think it was possible to go from hating someone to kind of liking them, to falling for them literally overnight, but all I know is something changed last night and I’m incapable of looking at him through the same lens as before.