Give me your phone number?” She smiled, looking down at her lap.
“Sorry. No. It would be a mistake.”
“Would it help if I promised not to be?
It’s different for you,” she said. “You’re a man.”
“I was beginning to fear you hadn’t noticed.
She wasn’t quiet. Neither was he. While it lasted, they were as close as two people could be. But afterward, she didn’t stay the night.
Ruthie KnoxHow many times did you come last night?” he asked in a low voice. Three.
“I’m not answering that question.”
“You don’t have to. I remember every one. You like me fine.
I would use my tongue. First through those pretty knickers, and then when I had you soaking and thrashing round, I’d rip them off and spread your thighs wide and hold you open while I made a banquet of you.
Ruthie KnoxCath called all the shots. She seemed more comfortable that way, so Nev had decided not to press. Much. Instead, he looked for the loopholes and exploited them.
Ruthie KnoxNev was the man in the parlor and the painter in his studio, the banker and the rugby player. The boyfriend who bought her prawn crisps and rubbed her back when she cried. The tender lover. The caged beast who came out to play when they got naked together. He could be any of them.
Ruthie KnoxAll of it felt like stolen time, an end rather than a beginning. But he didn’t know why, and he didn’t know what to do differently.
Ruthie KnoxThey weren’t lies but promises, however silently made. He wanted to keep her. She wanted to let him. They both wanted for the wrong reasons.
Ruthie KnoxAll she’d had to do was remember about Limbo: neither Heaven nor Hell, Limbo was the timeless, colorless eternity spent in between.
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