I so, so wanted his mouth on me.

"We can't. I got my period yesterday."

To my surprise Caine let his disappointment show. He squeezed my waist. "That's a shame. But I guess we'll have something to look forward to in ...?"

"The end of the week." I tried to extricate myself from his embrace, but Caine wasn't having it.

He stopped me, giving me a gentle shake. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you? I don't like this." His voice had lowered dangerously.

What? Was I supposed to be afraid? "Seriously? Mr. Distant doesn't like distance?"

His arms instantly dropped and he stepped back. "Are you playing games with me?"

"No." I sighed and threw my hands up in the air. "I don't know what I'm doing. I came in this morning, took one look at you, and decided it would do me a world of good to put a little bit of distance between us because ..."

He frowned, edging closer again. "Because?"

"Because ..." Just say it. Be honest. Or at least somewhat honest. "I don't know where I am with you. You can't have it both ways, Caine. You can't be distant with me, sneak out because sex got a little intense, ignore me, and then get pissed at me when I react in turn."

He looked away. "This is just sex, Lexie," he said through clenched teeth.

"I know that." Boy, did I know that. "But that doesn't mean we can't react the way we want to, be who we are ... I feel like you're constantly pushing and pulling because you're uncomfortable with how things go down between us sometimes." I stepped toward him tentatively. "I just want you to be you. No pressure. And I'll be me. I feel like you're trying so hard to prove that this is just sex that it's making this even more complicated. I want to uncomplicate it."

"How?"

I gave a huff of resigned laughter. "For whatever reason I like you, Caine. I'd quite like it when we're not having sex if we could be friends. No expectations, I promise." Just hope.

He raised his eyebrows, looking adorably confused. "Friends?"

"Mmm." I smirked. "You know ... friends."

"With benefits?"

"Exactly."

After a few seconds of silence, Caine finally gave me a hesitant nod. "Friends."

I smiled. "I should warn you, though, that I'm a smart-ass to my friends."

"Oh, well, then I guess we've been friends since you first walked through my door." As he rounded his desk to his chair, he threw me a grin that sent my heart racing off in a gallop.

My whole being lit up at Caine's sudden transformation. Before, he'd been on edge because of my mood, but now he was relaxed in a way I rarely saw from him.

Yes. No expectations ... but God, I had a lot of hope.

CHAPTER 17.

"What's your favorite color?"

I heard the whisper of Caine's movement against my pillow as he turned his head to look at me. "My what?" he said, bemused.

After a few days of no sex and some major anticipation, I'd given Caine the all-clear for resumption of the fun stuff that Thursday morning. He'd appeared at my apartment a few hours after work and we'd gone at each other as though we hadn't had each other in years.

Relaxed, I lay beside him on my bed, my arms flung above my head in postcoital satisfaction, and decided it was time to ease him into the whole getting-to-know-each-other thing. "What's your favorite color?" I repeated.

"What's your favorite color?"

I looked at him and saw his mouth was curled up at the corners in amusement. I liked this side of him, this playful, boyish side that peeked out at me sometimes. "Purple. Now yours?"

"I don't have a favorite color."

I frowned. "Everyone has a favorite color."

"I don't."

"You must at least have a color that you're partial to more than other colors."

He grunted. "Wouldn't that be the same thing as having a favorite color?"

I stopped and resaid it in my head. I giggled at the realization he was right.

Caine gave a huff of laughter, but I wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook. I rolled to my side to face him, resting my head in my hand. "Okay, let your mind go blank."

His gaze moved over my naked chest. "Can't do that, I'm afraid."

I rolled my eyes. "Try."

"Okay." He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Now what?"

"What is the first color that comes to mind?"

"Yellow," Caine blurted out, and then immediately scowled for some unknown reason.

"Yellow?" I grinned. "That's definitely a surprising color, but we'll go with it. Your favorite color is yellow. What's your favorite movie? And don't say you don't have one, because I've seen your DVD collection."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "Has someone been snooping?"

"No."

If anything his eyebrows rose to greater heights.

"Fine," I huffed. "I snooped in your DVD cabinet."

To my surprise and gratitude he didn't say anything else about that. Instead he said, "Seven Samurai."

I attempted to mask my shock that he'd offered the answer so easily. "What's it about?"

I watched, fascinated, as Caine moved onto his side so we were facing each other. There was interest and light in his eyes. "It's this Japanese movie made in the fifties and it's about these seven down-on-their luck samurai who are hired by this poor farming village to defend them against marauders. The battles scenes are some of the best in cinematic history-for its time it just ... It's fantastic. It's real, though-it's got grit and heart. It's a great movie."

I brushed my fingers along his forearm. "Do you have it?"

"I do."

"Maybe we can watch it sometime."

Caine's gaze roamed over my face. "I think you'll like it."

I took that as a yes to us watching the movie together and hid a smile. "Favorite band?"

"You didn't tell me what your favorite movie was."

"That's easy. Gone With the Wind. Although I could slap Scarlett silly for most of the movie. I mean, who would ever choose Ashley over Rhett?"

Sensing I wanted an actual answer, Caine shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"No one, that's who. Ashley is this Byronic limp noodle and Rhett is dark and challenging and all man. There's no competition. Scarlett was a nincompoop."

Caine's lips twitched. "A nincompoop?"

"Yes! It would be like me choosing to have Dean in this bed instead of you."

His amusement fled. "Who's Dean?"

I choked on a laugh. "Dean. Your main receptionist. You know, the guy that sits at that big glass desk and directs people where to go."

"Oh, that Dean." Caine appeared adorably confused. "I thought he was gay."

"My point exactly."

"Ashley wasn't gay," Caine argued. "He was a gentleman."

"Whatever he was, he was boring and spineless." I flopped over onto my back. "Women are attracted to men who can take charge of a situation."

"Not all women."

I glanced up at him. "Speaking from experience there, are you?"

He sighed. "I've been known to intimidate some women."

"You? Intimidating?" I teased. "No."

Caine laughed and reached for me, sliding one arm across my belly so he could pull me into him. "And some women need to learn to be more intimidated by me."

I giggled, wrapping my arms around him as he rolled so he was braced over me. "It's not going to happen."

He nodded, contemplating me. "I'm getting that."

"I think you like it."

Instead of answering in the affirmative, Caine brushed his thumbs across my cheekbones. "Favorite band?"

I smiled, glad he was so cool with sharing, even if it was just trivial stuff. "The Killers."

"Nice choice."

I warmed under his approval. "You?"

"Led Zeppelin."

I trailed my fingertips over his muscular back in a lazy, familiar way that felt altogether much too good. "Favorite city outside of Boston?"

"Sydney. You?"

"Prague."

Caine stilled under my touch. "A very nice choice."

"I really want to visit Budapest, though. All the places I visited were with Benito, and none of them were the one place I wanted to see."

"I've been to Budapest." He bent his head to sweetly brush his lips against mine. "You'd love it."

I loved this. I loved that he was no longer fighting to keep who he was from me. Right now we were two friends getting to know each other. While we were naked.

"Why do you like my apartment?" I suddenly blurted out.

Caine studied me a moment, seeming to drink in every aspect of my face. "Because it's got charm. There's no flash-it's got a timeless, simple beauty about it. A lot like its owner."

His compliment seeped into me, warming through to the very tips of my fingers. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," I whispered.

Caine smiled. "You think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to you?"

"Yeah."

"See. No flash. Just beauty."

I narrowed my eyes in thought. "You secretly like my tank tops and short shorts, don't you?"

He grinned in answer before swallowing my laughter in a deep, drugging kiss.

My greatest issue with our relationship was coming to terms with the fact that even if Caine allowed me those small moments of intimacy, he had no intention of changing his mind about what we were doing together. I'd developed a bad habit of building my hopes up only for Caine to remind me that this was still a friends-with-benefits situation.