“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.
“I should get going.” I break the tension with an excuse on the tip of my tongue. “Rue’s going to be home any minute, and I should get cleaned up. She wants to take me out later.”
I fold the apron haphazardly and leave it on the island, walking off to gather my clothes and get the hell out of there before things get any more awkward.
Every part of me is cringing. I said what I said. There’s no going back now. It won’t matter how much I try and convince him that I’m fine with our arrangement, he’s going to remember the things I declared today. In his kitchen. Naked in an apron and smelling like Dawn.
Several minutes later, I’m dressed, my bag hanging from my shoulder as I amble down the hall toward the front door. I’m not sure where he went or why he’s leaving me alone, but in the pit of my stomach, something feels off.
“Zane?” I call out, my hand on the doorknob.
I’m met with silence.
Gulping in a lungful of air, I pull the door open and leave without so much as a goodbye.
Walking away, not knowing where we stand, makes my stomach knot. If it’s this hard now, I can’t imagine it’ll be any easier six weeks from now.
“Delilah.” His voice stops me in my tracks by the time I’m halfway across his driveway.
Turning, my hopes are immediately dashed when I see him holding up my cell phone. I offer a timid smile and stride across the pavement to his outstretched arm.
“Thanks.” I take it and slip it in my purse, turning away.
“Delilah.” He says my name again, and my chest hurts.
“Yes?” I face him, my hand tight around my purse strap.