I watch her like a stalker, memorizing the way she stands with one foot slightly ahead of the other. I can’t look away. My mind teases me with memories of how she moaned beneath me in the backseat of my truck. The way she tastes, like soft, salty caramel. Dancing at the club, her sweat slick between her full breasts. My dick pulses.

I’m in a trance when she steps in front of me, bringing me to the moment.

“I was going to ignore your disgusting comments, but I can’t. I’ve been looking at clothes all this time with Eve because I’m planning on helping some of the women from her shelter find appropriate attire for job interviews. I’m not selfish, and I do realize there are people much less fortunate than I am.” She’s on the defensive, obviously hurt.

“And the bread,” she huffs, brown eyes shaded by her hand against her forehead. “I saved it for you to eat. See? No waste.”

She practically throws it at me. I stare at it, feeling like shit. The way I’ve been acting isn’t me, but how can she know that? She was supposed to hate me for the way I’d behaved—not save the bread, for God’s sake. I want her to understand that my life is not my own. My memories have a strong hold over my life.

I swallow hard, feeling every bit the asshole that I’ve been. I don’t want to be a dick. I just don’t know how else to keep her away. “Look, I didn’t mean that. My behavior … it was fucked, all right? I’ve been going through some rough shit lately. Work’s been hectic. It’s not about you.”

“Yeah. But, when you treat me like shit, you make it about me. You think I’m nothing more than fluff. I hear you loud and clear. But get this, Slade; I couldn’t give a shit what you think about me. So, stop trying to shove your opinions about who I am down my throat. I won’t swallow them.”

She stands up tall, daring me to argue.

“I’ll stop. I know you aren’t fluff.” I inch closer to her, but she doesn’t budge. “Last night, I overstepped. I just need to make sure no lines are crossed. I don’t hate you. Just need to be sure you know the score. And I lost my shit about the food, but that’s my own hang-up.”

“I asked you about how you felt after the shooting, and you freaked out. What line was I crossing then?”

“I’m just not interested in answering personal questions. But, Lauren, I mean it when I say, there’s nothing here for you.” I open my arms wide. “I’m not available in the way you want or need or deserve. We’ve got something be—” I pause, letting out a long breath. “I’m not a typical guy. I’ve seen things a girl as sweet as you can’t even imagine in her worst nightmare. I do only casual. This means, no bed-sharing—ever. This means, nothing but casual sex.”