“Because I want a relationship with you, baby. I’ve never wanted that with anyone else.” I kissed her temple. “Women tend to get clingy when they think they can bag a football player. I don’t like them knowing where I live.”

“So, you just…”

“I fuck when I need to scratch an itch, Blaire. That’s it. Mostly on the road. It makes it easier to keep a distance when they’re not in the same town as where I live. That’s why I keep the condoms in my suitcase.”

“You’ve only had one-night stands for the past five years?” she asked incredulously.

“Four years,” I corrected. “The only action my dick got for a year after you left was my hand. But pretty much one-night stands after that.”

“Pretty much?” Blaire asked, laying down her chopsticks and turning those intelligent green eyes on me. Can’t get a damn thing past my girl.

I tried not to squirm under her concentrated stare. “There was one woman in Boston that I saw more than once. It was easy because neither of us wanted a relationship. I just called her when I got… um…”

“Itchy?” Blaire supplied.

I slid my narrowed eyes toward her. “Yes, itchy.” I tried unsuccessfully to eat some rice with my chopsticks before giving up and grabbing a fork. “I made the mistake of letting her come to my apartment in Boston a few times. After a couple of years, she started getting attached and wanted more, but I didn’t. That was right around the time I was leaving Boston, so it made breaking it off a lot easier.”

Blaire had stopped eating and was staring down at her food, and I knew this shit had to be hard for her to hear. “Two years?” she asked incredulously. “So, she was your girlfriend. What was her name?”

“Her name was Milan, and no, she wasn’t my girlfriend. I already said I don’t do girlfriends, Blaire.”

She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with hurt. “Then what am I?”

“My girlfriend,” I said smugly, glad to be off the subject of Milan. She had become a stage-five clinger, and it felt wrong talking about her with Blaire. “I probably should have specified,” I went on. “I don’t want a girlfriend unless she meets a very strict set of guidelines.”

She leaned back against the couch and crossed her arms, a hint of amusement lifting her eyebrows. “Oh, I need to hear this.”

I started ticking them off on my fingers. “Number one, her name has to be Blaire. Two, she has to have dimples that drive me fucking wild. And three, she absolutely has to have beautiful green eyes.”

Blaire bit the inside of her cheek, and I could tell she was trying not to smile. “I think I’m sensing a very sweet pattern here.”