“Your mouth is good at other things. So good.”
Things were escalating fast, and any second I was going to start removing clothes.
Two things happened to slow our progress. Francis’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, and then so did mine.
He laughed at his message.
I did not.
Shay texted a rant about her mother and asked if she could call me later. After our conversation two nights before, I’d thought everything was going okay for her. I hated getting in the middle of their disagreements, and I wanted this time to focus on Francis.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
It would be too much of a buzzkill to start unloading my family drama on him.
“Yeah. How ’bout you?”
I could tell he didn’t fully believe me, but he smiled.
“It’s just my mom. She won a Pai Gow tournament, and some young guy asked for her number.” He shook his head. “I love that for her, but I don’t know how I feel about guys hitting on her.”
“She single?”
His smile fell. “Yeah. My parents’ divorce was final about six months ago.”
We stared at each other for a long minute before anxious laughter bubbled up from him.
“Kendall, I find myself in the odd predicament of wanting to tell you all the things, but terrified that it’ll be more than you’ll want to deal with.”
I rubbed my thumbs along his thighs and sighed. “Me too. You’re the first guy in a long time I’ve wanted to get to know, but at my age, I’ve got considerably more baggage than you.”
“Plus a creep and a mess.”
I opened my mouth to protest then laughed at his sly grin.
“Yeah. I worry it’s too much to hope that we can be friends and burn up the sheets.”
He barked out a laugh and ran his nails through my scruff. God, he knew just how to touch me.
“Probably we shouldn’t burn anything, you know, since you’re a fire boy.”
I snorted. “Boy? I’m probably close to twenty years older than you.”
“It’s just an expression.” He sighed and unhooked his ankles, but he didn’t let go of me. “I guess we need to keep talking, keep feeling each other out. And I hate to say it, but I think we have to formalize this situationship and enter into an indication of interest.”
“First we discussed a courtship, and now we’re talking, what, some sort of business contract? This is a lot of negotiation. Are you a lawyer, Francis?” I kept my tone playful. I didn’t mind this at all. It seemed like he needed to wade into these waters slowly, and I was on board. Better to go slow than have my heart broken.
“MBA. Finance. Different kind of negotiations. Do you agree to the IOI?”
“I can live with it. What are your terms? See? I can negotiate too.”
He blew out a breath. “We’re honest. We ask for what we want. We use our words. And we agree that this doesn’t go further than kissing… for an acceptable period of time. We keep… dating—”
“Is borrowing my plunger a date? Will there be other tools involved—ow.” He tugged on my scruff, and I laughed. “Dating works. I like dating you.”
His full smile turned on the heat inside me but not the tear-off-our-clothes kind of heat. No, this was the feelings kind of heat that was more significant.
“Either of us can initiate future negotiations if the terms of our arrangement need adjusting.”