Chapter Eight River

V incent: When can we meet up?

Well, that was the last thing I expected to hear from the man that yelled at me and walked away the night before. Not that I blamed him for his reaction. He was right. While I told him I was going home at the end of the month, telling him I'd never see or speak to him ever again was a completely different story. And, if I was being honest, a bit abrasive. My confidence carried me away in the moment and I scared him off.

But now he was texting me. Not only that, but he seemed interested again.

I didn't understand what had changed. So I started to type back.

Me: Whenever you're free. I'm pretty open. And we can talk about things too… I can explain.

Vincent: I don't really care what the reason is

That response surprised me.

Vincent: This is just about sex, isn't it?

Me: I mean… yes? Because of my life back home… that's all it can be .

Vincent: Sounds good to me. You're a top, right?

Me: Yeah…

Vincent: Perfect. Let me know when you're available. I have an apartment to myself so we don't have to be at the hotel. Wouldn't want Sam to think you're hiring a sex worker or something.

Me: Are you sure this is alright? You seemed pretty upset last night.

Vincent: Yep. I get out at eleven. Text me if you want the address.

Damn… talk about a complete one-eighty. I thought for sure the guy absolutely despised me… and maybe that hadn't changed. But he at least seemed open to tolerating me. And really, what more could I ask for? With my obligations back home creeping closer with every passing minute, I couldn't offer him anything more than good sex. Well… maybe I could offer him more if I had the balls to tell my father no for the first time in my life. Just the mere thought of it sent a cold streak of fear through my chest.

No. This last stop in Shifter Grove would have to be enough. I'd rather spend it having good sex with a guy that didn't think much of me than trying to stop myself from caring for someone again. In this way, Vincent would do all that work for me. Besides, I'd heard hate-fucking was fun. Maybe this would be a chance to explore that with a total stranger. Best of both worlds, right?

Me: I'm down. Send me the address and I'll meet you there.

◆◆◆

I still had some nervous energy pooling in the pit of my stomach when eleven finally rolled around. I'd spent the better part of the afternoon trying to work off that nervous energy. I went swimming at the beach since the waves were too small to surf. After that I went out to dinner, drove up and down the shoreline, and even stopped at a little grocery store for a bottle of cheap vodka and some cranberry juice. I figured if I was going to Vincent's apartment with no other plans than to fuck him, I might as well bring a peace offering. He should get something out of the deal besides my dick.

Although, it was a pretty okay dick if I said so myself.

But when I stepped up to his front door, I reached up to knock and I had to stop. Was I going to go through with this? I mean, I'd fucked plenty of guys over the course of the summer. However, all those had gone pretty smoothly. But things with Vincent got off to a rocky start. There was a small voice in my head telling me that I was doing him a disservice. I just didn't understand why. And they way he'd changed his tune so quickly… that was a bit odd.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about the entire situation felt off. And yet, even as that thought crossed my mind, my knuckles connected with the door. I felt this urge to see him, to try to at least explain myself. Even if nothing came of it, I needed him to know that I wasn't a complete asshole.

There was a slight shuffling inside the apartment before the door swung open. I came face to face with those green eyes and that curly mess of dark hair. He was shirtless and wet, obviously freshly out of the shower. My gaze trailed down his naked body to the white towel wrapped around his waist.

"You showed up," he said, not smiling in the least. "I wasn't sure you would."

I could stop staring at him. "I… uh… came with a peace offering," I said at last, holding out the paper bag.

He turned his nose up at the bag. "Is it a dead cat or something?"

"It's vodka."

"Thanks." He seemed confused as he stepped aside, ushering me into his abode. "I don't usually get drunk to do this sort of thing. Do you?"

"I guess not…"

"Hmm." He took the bag from me and placed it on the counter. "Do you want a drink then?"

"Sure."

Silence.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room as he made a pair of drinks for us. His apartment was extremely clean. Not in a weird way, but it just sort of looked like he wasn't there very often. I figured he probably spent most of his time at the pizza shop, anyway. Every business owner I'd ever met seemed like they worked more than ordinary people with desk jobs.

However, what caught me most was the complete lack of personal items in his living space. There were no pictures on the walls and no collectibles on the shelves. In fact, the entire place looked like it was out of a catalog. The furniture was cream colored and pristine, the shelves were decorated with mundane sculptures, and even the scented candle he had looked untouched. A new person could move in tomorrow and there wouldn't be anything there to suggest the place wasn't theirs.

"You have a nice apartment," I said at last, turning my attention back to him. "It looks like something out of a magazine."

"It should," he replied, sloshing vodka into the glasses. "That's where I got it all from."

"Do you like decorating?"

"No," he said flatly. "That's why I bought the set from a magazine. I let someone else worry about that stuff."

"Right." I felt like that didn't go well. Maybe it was time for a new subject. "So how was work today? The shop doing well?"

"It's the same as it is every day." There was zero passion in his voice. In fact, he seemed almost exasperated with my questioning. "We make pizza, we sell pizza, and then we go home."

"We?"

"I have a delivery driver. He's another wolf."

"Oh yeah. I met him." I paused. "Are you and him… involved?"

Vincent shot me a dirty look. "No. He's my employee. I'm not a dick."

"Sorry. I didn't think you were I just–"

"You're being nosy," he said, cutting me off. He picked up the glass and brought it over to me, his still damp body glistening in the light. "You don't have to pretend to get to know me. I'm an adult and I understand what's going on."

"I'm not pretending."

"Oh no? Are you saying you care about me now?"

"No! But… I… I don't want to just treat you like an expendable… thing !"

Vincent sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "You want to fuck me, yes?"

My eyes trailed down his body again. "I… wouldn't be opposed."

"And you're leaving at the end of the month with no intent to see, speak, or come near me ever again, right?"

I sighed. "That's the way it has to be."

"So tell me, what about that is supposed to make me feel like more than a hole for you?"

There was no anger in his voice or reprimand, just honesty. And as much as I tried to come up with a good answer, there really wasn't one to give him. I didn't really want to explain all the uncomfortable details of my personal life to him. How do you tell someone that you're willingly trading your identity for an inheritance and a lifetime of ease because standing up to your father is too hard? Or because the thought of living an unplanned life scares the shit out of you? No, I wasn't ready to admit I was a coward to Vincent. And I probably never would be.

"You're right," I nodded at last. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"There's no feeling involved. It's the truth. Plain and simple." He took another drink. "I've had to face harder truths than just being a piece of ass to you. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't know you and you don't know me. In order for this to be fun and to meet your requirements , that's the way it has to be."

"So… you still want to do this?"

"I didn't just spend the last twenty minutes prepping to not get fucked." He reached down and tugged at the knot of his towel. It crumpled to the floor in a heap and my eyes widened as I stared down at his beautiful half-hard cock. "I accept your terms, River," he said at last, a tinge of sadness to his tone. "I'd rather have good sex than a relationship, anyway. It's less messy and I won't get hurt at the end when you inevitably don't want me anymore."

He leaned close, his lips inches from mine as he stared at me. That sweet licorice scent of his filled my senses, the world around me falling away until all I could see was him. At the same time I felt his hand grope the front of my shorts, getting a handful of hard cock in the process.

"So, if you can guarantee me good sex and no messy feelings, then I'll be in the next room waiting. If not, thanks for the vodka and don't bother me again."

With that, he let me go and walked into the next room, leaving me standing hot and bothered in the middle of his living room.