I stare after her unable to move from the couch. Apparently I'm not going to be able to get away with owning the underlying issue without revealing the causes.

I drag a hand through my hair. I can't get up yet or I'd be following her. If I tried to walk now, I'd look like a cowboy who rode a horse over rough land for hours. No one needs to see that. Even now when I should be answering Tayla or refuting what she's just said, the majority of my brain is still lodged in my jeans, straining for release.

"You're not going to deny it?" she calls from the kitchen.

"If the right head was in charge, this conversation would be easier," I mutter.

She laughs and brings me a full plate of food. After she sets the dish on the coffee table, she plants a kiss on my forehead. "Want me to call you 'Blue' for the rest of the night?"

"Blue?" I ask with a smirk, dragging her into my lap. "Because I'm sad?"

She wiggles against my dick, and her gaze connects with mine. "Is that what I feel? Sadness?"

"You like teasing me?" I tuck stray strands of her hair behind her ears. The right head hasn't kicked into gear yet. All I can think about is kissing her, laying her back on the couch again, carting her off to her bedroom—whatever she'll let me do. I cradle her face between my hands, and the air around us electrifies.

"Screw it," she mutters, and she leans forward, capturing my lips with hers again.

Then she's straddling me, her hands in my hair, grinding against me, and the world could explode around us right now, and I wouldn't give a shit. 

A clatter sounds from behind Tayla, and I groan. Fucking Pixie cockblocking me again. An explosion I can ignore, but a puppy knocking my dinner off the table is a different matter. Tayla breaks the kiss and glances over her shoulder. "Oh Lord," she says, jumping off my lap to pick up the plate.

Heaving myself off the couch, I risk walking like a cowboy to help clean up the mess. I snatch Pixie off the floor, searching for the pup's bed. "You have a place for her?"

"The crate's in my en suite bathroom," Tayla calls over her shoulder as she scrubs the floor clean of Indian food.

"I'll take her outside first," I say, grabbing the leash hanging by the front door. "I was looking forward to seeing you, buddy," I tell the dog as I lead her outside. "But I gotta tell you, you're not doing me any favors tonight." She wanders the grass for a while before doing her business, and after smothering her with praise, I take her back into the house.

Tayla has replaced my plate and added hers to the coffee table. She glances at me, her cheeks flushed. The glassy, turned on look in her eyes gives me a moment of pause in the doorway with the dog cradled in my arms. Does she want to do this? I thought we decided we weren't doing this, but that look in her eyes says something else entirely.

"Want me to put her in the crate?" I offer.

"Yeah," she says, her voice husky again.

I unhook the leash and take her toward Tayla's master suite. Once I've latched the door, I turn to head back to the living room, and I catch a noise in the bedroom. If she wants me, I'm not saying no. Not a chance. Don't care whether a better man would hold off. That's not me tonight. Maybe it's never been me. She's at the door of the bedroom blocking me from returning to the main room.

"Are you really hungry?" She bites her lip.

My last chance to be a gentleman. Tell her I'm starving, that I don't want to eat cold Indian food. Aaron's voice whispers in my ear that going down this route with her when she doesn't have all the information is wrong. Fuck it. She's gorgeous and horny, and my dick is so hard I'm going to last approximately 2.5 seconds.

"I work a microwave like a pro." That's all the invitation she needs. When she closes the distance between us, I sweep her into a kiss, rotating her toward the edge of the bed.

"This doesn't mean," she says between kisses, "that we're back together."

"It's just chemistry." I tug off her top and unsnap her bra. "Really fucking great chemistry." I draw her jeans down her legs while she unbuckles my belt.

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Science."

We shed our clothes in a flurry of rushed movements, and then we're naked on the bed, a torrent of lips, hands, and tongues. When I cup her ass and flick my tongue against her clit, she gasps and grinds against my mouth.

"God, Si. I'm so turned on I'm going to come any second."

I chuckle against her. "Good. Then I can go for number two." My mouth closes over her, suckling and flicking my tongue in a steady rhythm.

"That's the kind of work ethic I like." She clutches my shoulders, her short nails digging into my flesh.

I relish the taste of her on my tongue and the way her hips rock with me. When she grows tense, I slip two fingers into her, and her moan of satisfaction is almost enough to send me over the edge. She's always been responsive, vocal, not afraid to tell me what she wants.

"Oh, God," she pants.

Come on, Tay. I suck a little harder, and she rockets off the bed, her internal walls clenching around my pumping fingers.

"Holy shit," she mutters. "God, that was..."

I look up and smirk at her. "I'll take amazing. Sensational. Orgasmerific."

"Orgasmerific?" She stares at the ceiling, her expression pensive. "That's a word?"

"Definitely a feeling. You up for round two?"

She covers her face and lets out a husky laugh. "I'm dead. If you can get me to come again, you're a magician."

"Is that a yes then?" I reach into the nightstand drawer where the condoms used to be kept. She's staring at me but doesn't say a word. Blindly, I take one out and wag it at her.

"Yeah," she says, her hand stroking me. "Let's see if you've got any magic in you."

"I'd never claim it was magical, but I've got something in me dying to come out."

Her laugh is throaty. She takes the condom from me, ripping the package and rolling it on. "No magic, huh? That's the only thing I'm interested in."

"Let's see what my wand can do. There may be some magic in it," I say, poised at her entrance. When I slide in, she arches her back to meet me, and our gazes connect. All teasing vanishes in a heartbeat, and we're united on a whole new level.

I want to tell her I've missed her, missed this with her. The combination of sexual hunger and humor is rare. But I don't want to scare her off. We're not together, but that doesn't mean I can't make her wish for more.

With each stroke, I shift my position drawing our bodies tight together, looking for the spark of lust I'll see when I get it right. Not all women can come this way, but with enough persistence on my part, she can. There's nothing magical about it—after six years, I still remember what gets her off as if we were together yesterday.

Another incremental movement, and she sighs. Ah, there it is. She closes her eyes and moans. Bingo.

Thinking about her has meant I'm not thinking about me, but as soon as I'm in the right position, I long to let go. Instead, I grit my teeth and concentrate on giving her the friction so crucial to her second trip around the stars.

"Look at me," I say. Tomorrow and the next day and the one after I want her to remember I'm the guy who makes her feel this way. There's no one else. Fucking her is primitive and primal, competitive and possessive. I want her to remember forever what it's like to have me inside her, to be driven to the edge over and over by me. 

Her gaze is dazed with desire. "You feel so good," she murmurs, her nails digging into my ass, keeping us tight.

All the things I want to say get caught in my throat. She's not ready to hear any of them. I kiss her roughly, and she meets the intensity without question, rocking in rhythm with me. "I don't know—" I break off because fuck she feels good. I bury my head in her neck and try to think of something else, but she's so wet and hot I can't hold on much longer.

"Keep going," she pants. "Please. I'm so close."

Even though it's killing me, I maintain the excruciating rhythm, and then she's crying out, clutching onto me and shaking with her orgasm. With a few more quick strokes, I kiss her deeply as my own surges through me. We lay in silence for a moment, both of us breathing heavy.

"Apparently, it is a magic wand," she says with a sigh of contentment.

"Don't worry," I say, easing out of her. "I'll let you borrow it whenever you need a little magic in your life." I head into the en suite to clean up.

"You're so generous," she calls after me.

"My kindness in this area knows no bounds." Already I'm wondering when we can do it again. When I come out of the bathroom, she's dressed.

I stand at the doorway, still naked, a frown on my face. "What'd you dress at the speed of light?"

"I'm hungry," she says, her voice defensive. "I'll heat up the food." Without another glance at me, she's out the bedroom door.

I rub my forehead, not so much confused by her attitude as annoyed by it. Would ten seconds of cuddling have killed her? I grab my clothes off the floor and get dressed.

Already an impending sense of doom is filling my chest. Things will either be awkward as hell or she's going to try to pretend I didn't just give her two orgasms with my magic dick. 

When I come out of the bedroom, one plate is already on the coffee table.

"You can start eating," she calls to me from the kitchen.

Pretending it is. Great. "Thanks," I say easing onto the sofa.

When she comes out carrying her meal, she sits at the far end of the couch, her plate cradled in her lap.

"Lots of room on the table," I offer, gesturing to the mountain of space beside me.

"I'm good here." She takes a bite of naan.

We eat in silence, and about ten different icebreakers rotate through my mind. None of them are what I actually want to say. Isn't Aaron always counseling me to be honest? "We're going to pretend like we didn't just have sex?"

"I'm not pretending," Tayla says, her tone indignant. "But I told you it didn't mean anything. Great sex is a dime a dozen."

Such fucking bullshit. I'd ask her the last time she had great sex, but I don't actually want to know. "Sure, yeah. I had great sex." I pretend to think it over. "Just yesterday. Amazing. So common I bet everyone has great sex all the time, every day."

"Oh good." She gives a dismissive wave of her fork. "Glad the manwhoring is going well."

"Don't sex shame me. You're the one who just said it's as common as butter on bread." I scrape up the last bite of my food. My mouth is on fire. Did she put more hot sauce in this? I'm going to need to chug a gallon of milk.

"Look," she says, taking her half-finished plate and stomping to the kitchen. "We had sex. It's not that earth shattering, and it doesn't mean we're getting back together. If I'd thought you were going to be up in your feelings about it, I wouldn't have initiated it."

Well, at least she's admitting this was her idea. Still, I'm not overly keen on being pinned as emotional. With a sigh, I follow her to the kitchen. So far, Aaron's honesty idea is overrated. I slide my plate into the sink, and Tayla is at the fridge, the door open.

"I didn't think it would mean everything, but I thought it would mean something." That's the truth. How can she be so dismissive?

She glances at me over her shoulder, the tension easing out of her. "It means we have good sexual chemistry. I thought we were in agreement about that."

"Then why devalue that admission by saying you have great sexual chemistry with everyone?"

"Maybe I do." She takes the milk out of the fridge and two cups from the cupboard. Tension coats her actions again.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Name one other person."

"One other person what?"

"One other person you've had great sex with. Just one. Name them, right now without thinking about it, and I'll believe you."

"I don't kiss and tell," she says primly, pouring the milk.

"Bullshit. It's because you can't, Tay. Neither can I. Okay? Can you just admit it?"

She shoves the glass into my hand. "Why does it matter if I tell you that sex with you is better than sex with other people? Doesn't change anything between us."

"I want you to admit it." My jaw is set.

"So, you can have your ego stroked?" Tayla gulps down her milk. "I already stroked something else tonight. I don't think I need to add your ego to it."

I let out a frustrated noise. "You're being stubborn about this for no reason."

She laughs. "I am?" She slides her empty cup onto the counter. "Okay, Si." She sidles up to me, and her index finger trails down my chest. Under her eyelashes, she glances up. "You're the single greatest lover I've ever had." Her breathy voice causes my cock to spring to attention. "Did I stroke the right thing this time?" Her fingertips graze the front of my jeans.

It annoys me that her attempt at mocking me still turns me on. "Your sarcasm and undermining my request should not be sexy."

"Can't account for what gets you going." She shrugs and heads out of the kitchen.

I follow her into the living room. "Tay."

She's at the front door with it open. "Your keys are there," she points to a side table. "We had dinner and we both got off. Now, I think it's time for you to go."

"You're kicking me out?" I snatch my keys off the table, and then I stop in front of her, searching her face. She's closed off again—almost as though the week of progress I've made is gone. Christ. If I knew having sex was going to set us this far back, I would have kept my dick in my pants.

"Asking you to leave. I'll see you Thursday as per our agreement. Don't send me any cutesy texts either. I'm not answering those anymore."

"Tayla," I plead. We've been exchanging texts for the last week without issue. Most of them are logistical, but many of them have been friendly, even flirtatious.

"We're not getting back together. I want the software company to give me back half my money so I'm putting up with this arrangement." She shoves my shoulder so I stumble out the door. "Sometimes when something gets broken, you can't fix it. It stays broken."

Si's not making much progress. 😉 When will he learn?

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