simmered in her mind for a few long moments. “Would it be easier for you if we stopped having sex? I’m not saying that I want to stop — I don’t. I like having sex with you. It’s good exercise. It’s fun. I enjoy myself. But if you thought it would be easier for you to reconcile your feelings you might or might not actually have toward me if sex weren’t a part of the equation, I would respect and support that.”
“I don’t want to stop having sex with you,” I said. “If that makes me a pig, so be it.”
“Am I a pig because I enjoy sex? Because I earn money from it? No. Sex is healthy. It’s natural. And when you find someone your body responds to, you hold on to them for as long as you’re allowed to. As long as you’re able to.”
An uncomfortable notion crossed my mind. “Should I be paying you for sex?”
Peyton studied me, her brows drawn together, the skin between them creased. “Are you trying to insult me?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Absolutely not. I just want … I want to do right by you. I care about you, feelings and love and all of that be damned. Friends can care about each other. I care about you, and I don’t want to take advantage of you. I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.”
“I don’t want you to pay me for sex,” Peyton said after a while, a long stretch of silence when she just looked deeply into my eyes. “Is that confusing? I don’t want this to be a business transaction. I like relaxing with you and just fucking. Is that a problem?”
“Hell, no. I love it.”
“I bet things will get clearer for you later on,” she said, patting my forehead. “Now, get dressed. We’ve spent enough time fucking and fighting. It’s time to work.”
We were at Peyton’s cottage in the middle of the day because she had reliable intelligence saying that her father would be out of town for an industry convention. It was actually something I’d been interested in attending, but that was an impossible with my schedule at the ranch — and the venture with Peyton. We were going to raid Dax Malone’s office to get intel on his operation to see if there was anything we could glean for ours. It was basically going to be a successful attempt at what I’d tried all that time ago — talking to the old man face to face like two polite human beings wanting to help each other and the things we cared about. Dax Malone didn’t operate on that wavelength, though, so we had to stick with this alternative.
“The office is in the house,” Peyton said. “It’s not a bad walk. Here. We can even take bottles of water.”
“We have to stay hydrated,” I said with a wink, taking the bottle of water she offered me and zipping my jeans. I was surprised to feel less heartache than earlier. Maybe Peyton was right. Maybe I would unravel all of this I’d packed in my chest about her, given time. But then again, I knew what was in my heart. Peyton had, whether she realized it or not, basically simply given me the go ahead to love her in secret. My secret. The one she didn’t have to keep for me.
Dax Malone’s house was so big that he could’ve housed Peyton and a dozen other illegitimate children, but he lived in the sprawling motherfucker by himself. It went to show the quality of his character, I supposed. Peyton had a copy of the key she’d made some time ago and let us in, disarming the sophisticated house alarm. “So I can go in and put out a fire if he’s ever not home,” she explained to my raised eyebrows. “The man’s vain about his possessions.”
And he did have a crap ton of possessions. Trophies from shows, expensively framed photos of him hobnobbing with people I recognized from newspapers and magazines, dusty but costly furniture cramming every square inch of floor space. The man didn’t understand the concept of negative space, didn’t let any of his walls or rich carpets breathe. It made me feel like I was having trouble breathing, that all of his
“I don’t want to stop having sex with you,” I said. “If that makes me a pig, so be it.”
“Am I a pig because I enjoy sex? Because I earn money from it? No. Sex is healthy. It’s natural. And when you find someone your body responds to, you hold on to them for as long as you’re allowed to. As long as you’re able to.”
An uncomfortable notion crossed my mind. “Should I be paying you for sex?”
Peyton studied me, her brows drawn together, the skin between them creased. “Are you trying to insult me?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Absolutely not. I just want … I want to do right by you. I care about you, feelings and love and all of that be damned. Friends can care about each other. I care about you, and I don’t want to take advantage of you. I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.”
“I don’t want you to pay me for sex,” Peyton said after a while, a long stretch of silence when she just looked deeply into my eyes. “Is that confusing? I don’t want this to be a business transaction. I like relaxing with you and just fucking. Is that a problem?”
“Hell, no. I love it.”
“I bet things will get clearer for you later on,” she said, patting my forehead. “Now, get dressed. We’ve spent enough time fucking and fighting. It’s time to work.”
We were at Peyton’s cottage in the middle of the day because she had reliable intelligence saying that her father would be out of town for an industry convention. It was actually something I’d been interested in attending, but that was an impossible with my schedule at the ranch — and the venture with Peyton. We were going to raid Dax Malone’s office to get intel on his operation to see if there was anything we could glean for ours. It was basically going to be a successful attempt at what I’d tried all that time ago — talking to the old man face to face like two polite human beings wanting to help each other and the things we cared about. Dax Malone didn’t operate on that wavelength, though, so we had to stick with this alternative.
“The office is in the house,” Peyton said. “It’s not a bad walk. Here. We can even take bottles of water.”
“We have to stay hydrated,” I said with a wink, taking the bottle of water she offered me and zipping my jeans. I was surprised to feel less heartache than earlier. Maybe Peyton was right. Maybe I would unravel all of this I’d packed in my chest about her, given time. But then again, I knew what was in my heart. Peyton had, whether she realized it or not, basically simply given me the go ahead to love her in secret. My secret. The one she didn’t have to keep for me.
Dax Malone’s house was so big that he could’ve housed Peyton and a dozen other illegitimate children, but he lived in the sprawling motherfucker by himself. It went to show the quality of his character, I supposed. Peyton had a copy of the key she’d made some time ago and let us in, disarming the sophisticated house alarm. “So I can go in and put out a fire if he’s ever not home,” she explained to my raised eyebrows. “The man’s vain about his possessions.”
And he did have a crap ton of possessions. Trophies from shows, expensively framed photos of him hobnobbing with people I recognized from newspapers and magazines, dusty but costly furniture cramming every square inch of floor space. The man didn’t understand the concept of negative space, didn’t let any of his walls or rich carpets breathe. It made me feel like I was having trouble breathing, that all of his
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