Page 84 of Match Me if You Can

I slide my hand down her hip, the outside of her ass, hitching her leg over the top of mine. “Want me to show you some?”

Heat in her eyes…and invitation.

But, though, I said the words and really—fucking really—want to take her up on that invite, I know that now’s not the right time.

“You’re a good woman,” I say quietly, hating the flicker of surprise that slides across her face. “So, when I eventually fuck this up, try to look back on me with fond memories, okay?”

Right.

I’d meant that as a joke.

Instead it came out as…that.

I laugh, trying to guide us back into light. But it doesn’t sound remotely like a real laugh.

Something I know when her tone gentles.

Damn that heart of hers.

“You remember that I researched you, right?” she says softly.

“Yeah, considering the dossier you recited on the plane, I’m well aware.”

Her eyes spark with humor, but she doesn’t allow herself to be distracted. “And you know what I do.”

“Also something I’m aware of, princess.”

A roll of those gorgeous blue eyes. “Stick with me, honey.”

Honey.

It’s only the second time she’s called me that, but fuck, it slices through me, sinks deep, embedding itself into the inner workings of my heart.

I’m fucked.

So totally fucked.

And that’s even before she goes on to say, “Some of the women you’ve been with were good choices. Choices I might have offered up to you if they were my clients. They didn’t work out, because they weren’t right. But that’s part of the process. It takes time, and it takes putting people together to see what happens. That doesn’t mean you fucked things up, though.”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t either,” I mutter.

“As for the others,” she says, going on like I haven’t spoken, “Devon lied to you about her baby being yours, and Stef went on social media, blasting you for not being faithful after two dates—and I’m guessing you guys didn’t have a conversation about exclusivity that early in the relationship?”

I shake my head when she pauses, waiting for me to answer.

“And I think it goes without saying that posting a picture of the man you had sex with in bed sleeping without his permission is a dick move, not to mention that you offering to split a meal on the first date when you’re not interested in a future date is a pretty smart way to communicate that disinterest.” She rests her hand on my chest. “I know that all of this shit is magnified because you’re who you are, but it’s normal, honey. I see it every day.”

Normal or not.

It’s the shitshow that’s my life.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I say. “Like how I would pay another million to see you naked wearing only those shoes you showed me earlier.”

Her lips twitch, but her voice is soft when she asks, “Have you ever thought that maybe it isn’t all your fault your past relationships didn’t work out?”

That’d be nice except…

It’s always been my fault.