Short week for me at the office. Took today off to finish packing up The Condom; took tomorrow off for the closing and for when the movers come to take my stuff to storage. Portia and I met with the marketing manager about our upcoming feature in the summer charter issue of Yachting magazine. I’ve never seen my mother in a better mood: not only did our newest model, the Galaxy, land the front cover of the most popular publication in the business, but the woman she’d like to see her son marry is under his direct tutelage for the next couple of months...which, in her mind, will lead to a subsequent engagement.

Hate to break it to you, Gloria, but last Saturday night, your son had his face buried between the thighs of another woman you totally disapprove of. Who happens to be the hottest, most endearing woman he’s ever met. Who pulls at me like I’m the Earth and she’s the moon, which makes me wonder if there are cosmic forces at work here, because I don’t do serious relationships.

I couldn’t get enough of my faux girlfriend Saturday night. And I’m giving myself major credit for the restraint I demonstrated. Christ, it’s hard, though—pun intended. To continue with the same analogy, I’m between a rock and a hard place with her.

I want things to be on her terms. I’ve said it, and I mean it.

But I want to have her. In many different ways.

I want her to know how much I need to make love to her.

But I don’t want her to feel pressured.

So, there it is. Rock...hard place...Damon Cavanaugh right in the middle.

Saturday night, seeing her beautiful pussy all exposed and wet...I wanted to plunge my dick inside her. Bad. The hard truth is I consider myself lucky as fuck to have crossed into physical territory at all, given her initial reluctance.

It’s not just about the physical with her, though—and that’s been the biggest shocker of all for me. I just like being around her. And contractually, I’ve got two months, two weeks and two days. But who’s counting, right?

I have a plan that I’m going to run by Delaney when we meet for lunch in a few. I have to be out of The Condom tomorrow, but I don’t close on my Hancock place for eight days. That means, I won’t have a place to stay. So…what better place to crash than with my pseudo girlfriend for a few nights? I’ll be in Portland on a bachelor’s weekend for my high school buddy Steve—his last hurrah before he ties the knot—so I’d stay with her tomorrow night and next week. If she’s agreeable.

Sprite and I meet at Blaze in downtown Ellsworth for brick oven pizza. It’s sunny and 70 today, so we sit out on the patio. Her hair lifts in the breeze, and she keeps tucking it behind her ears looking like a little girl, and getting me horny with that and just by sitting there. This is the first time we’ve seen each other since Saturday, and I don’t think I’m imagining that she’s a little self-conscious. Can’t pass up the chance to tease her about it.

I take a sip of my beer. “So...did you check the chair for burn holes?”

She practically chokes on her raspberry lemonade. Her baby blues widen in disbelief as her face colors. “You are just—oh my God. Stop.” She can’t help but laugh, though, just as I knew she would, and I’m grinning ear to ear. I’m going to miss this kind of thing.

She’s shaking her head. “I can’t believe you convinced me to, um...you know...”

“I figured the chair would be the next best thing to the bed. Tucker was snoozing, and you know what they say about letting sleeping dogs lie. I did contemplate the kitchen table, but I didn’t think that would be too comfortable, so I decided on the chair. I think it worked out pretty well, don’t you?”

Delaney is looking at me like she’s trying to stay pissed but can’t. “It worked out fine.”

“And as far as convincing you, I didn’t have to try too hard, Sprite. Just sayin.”

She balls up her napkin and throws it at me. “I hate you.”

I grab it in mid-air, chuckling at how adorably exasperated she is. “Nope. You don’t. But I’ll behave, and I promise I’ll be on my best behavior for our sleepovers.”

“Sleepovers? What are you talking about?”

“I was kind of hoping you’d let me crash at your place tomorrow night. And next week. I’m moving out of my condo tomorrow and won’t be in my new house till next Saturday. Plus, if my mother does happen to have someone watching me, she’ll know that I’m spending the night with you.”

Her face is solemn and troubled. I don’t want to stress her out. “I’m not talking about going to bed with you...just having a place to spend the night. I can sleep on the couch, or the floor, or in the bathtub.”

She raises an eyebrow and smiles. “The bathtub?”

“Reminiscent of my college years.”

“Why don’t you ask Portia? Or stay with your mom?” She picks up her piece of pizza and bites into it, batting her eyes at me innocently.

“Excellent suggestions, but fuck no. I can obviously do a hotel...just thought I’d run the idea by you, because I thought we both might...you know, enjoy it.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you thought?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s a good thing we’re not really seeing each other, so this isn’t a big deal.”

“Exactly. Not a big deal at all.”

We lock eyes for a few seconds, and it feels like we’re sharing a hell of a lot more than pizza for lunch.

Delaney looks down at her plate, then back up at me. “Okay.” She lowers her voice and leans over the table. “Even though this is outside the contract, you can stay with me next week.”

“Hey, thanks. You know what the best thing about this is?”

“Tell me.”

“It means I get to spend more time with you.”

There is a pink glow blooming in her face, and she can’t hide her smile. We hold each other’s gaze for longer than before.

I like that.