His hand glides down my arm, giving me goosebumps. He traces my stomach, my bellybutton, and then caresses my breast. I clench my center, and moisture gushes. My body reacts to his touch, every single time. His hand works magic as he talks.

“No. I don’t have the time. Making partner requires crazy hours. To some degree, it’s all about how many hours you clock. I want to make name partner by the time I’m forty. Once I’m partner, I’ll have more time. But I don’t have the time for a relationship with the hours I work. I’ve tried. It gets ugly. Not worth it.”

He sounds sincere. My fingers graze the hard stubble along his jaw.

“Do you think we can pull this off? Sex and friends? Not wanting too much from each other?”

His phone vibrates, and he reaches over to read the incoming text before responding. “I think we can. It sounds like our friends with benefits arrangement is perfect for both of us. And I won’t stay tonight. But one day, I might. It doesn’t have to mean more than we want it to.”

Right.