I bite my lip as I watch him turn to leave. This man confuses me. One minute he’s a brute, laying waste to my body and emotions, and the next, he’s almost sweet. I wish I could figure him out, but he’s like a puzzle that’s impossible to solve.

Studying the hard piece of plastic in my hand, I find myself questioning the wisdom of meeting him tonight. I know I’m waffling, set on walking away one minute, and diving back into bed with him the next, but I don’t know how to turn my back on this man. Not certain I even want to. The only thing I know for certain is how I feel when he’s standing in front of me—alive. I’ve never felt more alive than in the moments we steal.

Ransom is my drug. Each time I feast on his body, I fall deeper into my addiction. Tonight, even with my ass already beginning to ache, I know I will show up at his door. The secrecy shrouding our relationship should cause me shame. I know he’s hiding something from me. I used to think he was just a businessman who breezed into town a few nights a month to fuck me senseless and leave again, but now I know different. So what reason would a man who lives in the same city I do have to rent a hotel room, unless he has a secret?

The fact is, even though a part of me cares, it’s not enough. My desire for him is more powerful than his truth. Without another thought, I clean myself up and get dressed.

TEN

“You didn’t have to do this.” Annie steps back to allow me inside her apartment.

When she texted me early this morning telling me not to wait for her before class, I panicked. The idea of going in alone gave me hives. So I did the only thing I could think of—ransacked the kitchen cabinets for a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle and showed up on her doorstep an hour later, fully prepared to play nursemaid.

“You’re sick. I bring soup.” Heading straight for the kitchen, I pour the chicken noodle soup from the container into a soup cup made by the same company, nuke it in the microwave, and return to the living room where I find her curled up in a corner of the couch. “You look like death warmed over,” I say as I hand her the bowl.

She looks at it with a mix of longing and repulsion, and then takes a tiny sip. “Campbell’s, Joe? You shouldn’t have.” The mirth in her eyes gives me a chuckle.

“It’s double noodle, too,” I point out as I take a careful seat across from her. After spending the night with Ransom, it’s a miracle I can even walk. I count my blessings, because that man is unequaled when it comes to his skills in the sack.

After taking a couple more bites, she sighs, sets the bowl on the table, and curls back under the blanket draped around her shoulders.

“So, what’s going on with you? Flu? Bad breakup?” I ask hopefully. I haven’t forgotten about Jason’s inability to show up at the bar last week, and I am holding firm to my conviction that she needs to drop him on his ass, and fast.

Annie rolls her eyes. “You wish.”

“I really do.”

“It’s complicated,” she says softly, then burrows deeper into her blanket.

“What’s complicated about saying ‘Hey, we should see other people’? The guy is a douche. Do you have any idea how many guys at school would kill to go on a date with you?”

I’m not even exaggerating. Annie is the kind of girl that sparks men’s primal instincts. She’s got that whole cute and innocent vibe about her. Hell, most days, even I want to wrap my arms around her and shelter her from the world.

“It just is, Joe, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now. What’s up with you?” she asks, changing the subject. I let her, only because I don’t want to fight when she clearly needs her rest. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you limping in here.”

Shit. I thought I had done a pretty decent job of masking the Quasimodo routine. That’s what I get for letting Ransom use me so hard last night. My only solace comes from knowing that I used him just as hard. With any luck, he’s feeling it too this morning. I scoff, waving her comment off. “I was not limping. I just strained a muscle is all.”

“Mmm hmm. Let me guess, yoga really kicked your ass this morning?”

Not yoga, I think to myself. I can tell by her amused expression that she isn’t buying my excuse. She’s always been able to see right through me, so I don’t even know why I bother trying to lie.

I feel a sudden wave of doubt slam into me. She doesn’t have it together any more than I do, but I still consider asking her for advice. It’s selfish of me, and yet, maybe it will make her feel better to focus on something other than her screwed up love life.

“Annie…” I hesitate. How to form this question? “Assume you know someone who is involved with someone that they probably shouldn’t be.”

Perking up, I now have her full attention. “Is this someone I know?”

“Purely hypothetical.”

She purses her lips. “Okay, I have no idea who these fictional people are, but they’re in a relationship?”

“It’s more sex than a relationship,” I clarify. “But what if one of them wants it to be more than that?”

“I guess it depends on who the other person is and what they want. What are they like?”

“Well, they’re both smart, serious about their career, friendly, and attractive. They have a lot in common, actually.”

“That’s a start. What are they like together?”

I look toward the window framing the back of the couch and choose my words carefully. “They have fun. Sometimes they laugh, but mostly it’s very intense. Recently they’ve been spending some time together outside of their normal routine, and it’s making things…complicated.”

Annie frowns as she studies me. I shift uncomfortably under her close scrutiny, fearing she’ll be able to see right through me. “If these two people have agreed to have a purely sexual relationship, and one of them is changing their mind, then I think that person has a duty to tell the other person how they’re feeling so they can decide how to proceed.”

“What if the other person decides they want to end the relationship?”

“It’s a risk, but in the end, it would protect both of them. Staying too long in a relationship that isn’t working anymore can do more damage than good.”

I raise a brow at her remark and she purses her lips again, receiving the silent message. “Well, what if one of them is getting mixed signals,” I press on. “For example, what if they can’t tell what the other person is feeling because each time they see the other person, they’re different.”

Annie is quiet for a long time as she mulls this over. I wait patiently, because it’s either sit here and do nothing or go to class and face Ransom. When I left his room this morning, he was the same distant and dismissive man he was last week. If I attend his class only to have him look at me with softness and caring again, I’m going to scream. Hiding out in this apartment for a few hours seems like the safest bet at the moment.

“I think if this person has to think so hard about their relationship status, then maybe it’s not worth the trouble,” Annie finally says. “Relationships are supposed to make you feel good. Whether it’s love or purely sex, there shouldn’t be any question about who feels what for whom or what’s going to happen next, and there definitely shouldn’t be any anxiety or fear about talking to the other person about their feelings.”

Again, I raise a pointed brow. Apparently, Annie is good at doling out advice, but not taking it. “So you’re saying that this person should walk away?”

“No, I’m saying that if you feel something for this man, tell him. Men are notoriously aloof. Unless you tell them straight up how you’re feeling, most of them won’t get it.”

Our gazes meet and an understanding passes between us. She knows we’re talking about me, and I know that she will have questions for me later. When that happens, I plan to use her advice against her, and she knows that, too.