One Night of Scandal

“Don’t tell me you’re ready to go again.”

Reed grinned in challenge. “Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“Dude, I’m a woman. Multiple orgasms, remember? I can go all night.”

Damned if he didn’t like the sound of that.

But her teasing expression quickly transformed into one of regret. “Actually, I can’t. It must be one o’clock by now, which means I have to go to bed. My workdays start at eight in the morning.”

“Right.” Disappointment tightened his chest. He often forgot that not everybody started work at six p.m. like he did.

“Tomorrow is our last self-defense class,” she reminded him.

“I know.” He hesitated. “Maybe we can grab dinner afterward? You know, build our strength before all the wild sex we’re gonna have.”

She seemed equally hesitant. “I’m totally on board for the wild sex part. But, um, I’m not sure going out to dinner is a good idea.”

Reed searched her face. “Why not?”

She proceeded to do that cute lip-biting thing again, an indisputable omen that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“I think…” Darcy sighed. “I think we both need to be clear about what this is.”

“You wanted a fling. It’s a fling.” He couldn’t stop the edge that crept into his voice.

“Yes, but we need to establish what each of us considers a fling.” She nervously toyed with a strand of hair before tucking it behind her ear. “I don’t want anything serious.”

Reed bit his tongue before he could call bullshit.

But…bullshit.

Darcy Grant had serious written all over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Hell, she’d started referring to AJ as her “boyfriend” after two measly weeks of dating.

No, she didn’t want anything serious with him.

That’s what she’d really meant.

The notion made his gut clench.

“So you’re saying there’s no chance this will ever turn into a relationship?” he asked carefully, trying to mask his unhappiness.

“I don’t see how it can,” she confessed. “We’re so different. And…well…I’ll just say it. You’re not really my type.”

Annoyance streaked through him. “I get it. I’m good enough to screw, but not good enough to date?”

“It’s not about being good enough,” Darcy protested, misery etched into her face. “It’s just…you really don’t seem like a guy who’s interested in relationships.”

“You hardly know me,” he said stiffly. “That’s a rather big assumption to make, don’t you think?”

“How many relationships have you been in?” she shot back. “And I don’t mean flings or affairs or any other arrangements that revolve around sex. I’m talking about serious, long-term relationships. Commitments.”

He supposed he could’ve lied, but he found it difficult to lie to Darcy. “Not a lot.”

“How many?”

“None,” he admitted.

Her forehead wrinkled. “None? Really? I figured you’d at least say one. What’s the longest you’ve ever dated someone?”

“Never more than a month.”

She nodded, as if it was just what she’d expected to hear. Although her expression didn’t convey disapproval, he sensed it radiating from her body.

Reed could have elaborated. Explained how during his fighting days he’d been too immature to even think about commitment, too lazy to put in the effort required to make a relationship work. Or that lately, relationships hadn’t interested him because he hadn’t found anyone he truly clicked with.

But what was the point? She obviously had her own preconceived notions about his player status, but he suspected that even if he’d been living like a monk, Darcy Grant would still find him unworthy of the coveted boyfriend status. He was just a punk from Southie, a far cry from perfect, saintly guys like AJ, who clearly made up Darcy’s “type.”

Enough with the self-pity.

The angry voice in his head gave him pause. Yeah, he definitely needed to stop all this internal wallowing. He might’ve been a punk for most of his life, but damn it, he was trying to walk a different path now.

AJ had told him to prove to Darcy that he wasn’t a screw-up anymore—evidently it was time to start proving.

“Look, I’m just trying to spare us from all the messy stuff that comes when people try to make things more serious than they are,” Darcy said softly. “I think the best way for this to work is if it’s a sex-only thing. No dinners or movie dates or heavy conversations about heavy topics.” Her gaze probed his face. “Are you okay with that? Because if you’re not, there’s no point in going forward.”

Was he okay with that?

Not f**king likely.

But he also wasn’t an idiot. If he so much as hinted that he wanted something more, he knew she’d shut this fling down faster than a health inspector at a restaurant with a roach problem.

Maybe he and Darcy had a future, maybe they didn’t. But he’d be damned if he didn’t give himself the opportunity to find out.

So like an obedient schoolboy, he nodded and said, “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He didn’t miss the flicker of relief in her eyes. “Okay…well, good, then.” She slid off the couch, distracting him with her naked body and the perfectly round ass she flashed as she bent over to pick up her clothes. “I’d offer to let you crash here, but I think sleepovers should be added to our no list.”