His eyes widen in shock and I’m once again reminded at how new he is to all this. He is so innocent it’s endearing. He still thinks the world is a good place and that people are decent. I don’t want him to ever lose that.
“Come on, lets get it over with,” I say as I open the car door.
It’s a bit of a scrum to get to the theater. There is no security, no ropes holding people back. It’s a total free for all. We fight our way to the door of the theater. As I step into the lobby, I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when I’m ambushed by a photographer who was waiting inside. The man is so eager to get as close as possible, the lens of his giant camera is right in my face. Any closer and he is going to be whacking me with it.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” snarls Kit as he grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and starts hauling him away from me.
Theater staff finally appear and begin showing Kit the way to the side entrance. Kit manhandles the photographer towards it.
He returns a few moments later, photographer free. He gives me a guilty look.
“I’m sorry, this was supposed to be a nice relaxing evening.”
I can’t reply for a moment because I’m far too busy swooning. That was the hottest, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I already wanted to drop to my knees for Kit, now I really, really want to. My mouth is watering in preparation.
“It’s fine,” I say, and it sounds cold to my own ears.
Seems a lifetime of hiding my emotions means I can’t express them even when I want to. Which is probably a good thing. Last time I offered to blow Kit, he pushed me away. Literally.
He watches me for a moment as if he is trying to read me. Then he nods, and we make our way to the private box he has booked.
As soon as we take our seats I realize my error. I never should have agreed to this. Two hours and twenty minutes sitting next to him, alone in the dark. This is going to be torture. How the hell am I going to keep my hands to myself?
Oblivious to my turmoil, he manspreads next to me until there is barely a hairsbreadth between our knees. I can feel his body heat. I can smell his cologne. I’m going to be sitting here with a boner for the entire show, clinging on to every inch of willpower I possess so I don’t climb onto his lap.
I really don’t know if I’m strong enough.
I daren’t speak on the journey back. By some miracle I held it together during the show and didn’t try to molest Kit. I don’t want to push my luck though, and here, in the back of the car, he is still both entirely too close and far too far away.
Thankfully, it’s a relatively short journey, and soon he is unlocking the front door and we are stepping inside. He flicks the lights on and pads over to the kitchen. I trail behind him.
“Drink?” he offers as he pours a whiskey.
I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m just going to head to bed.”
Is that disappointment I see in his eyes? I sure hope so. I really want him to get past the whole thinking I’m a vulnerable victim thing and move onto fucking my brains out. It might never happen, but I can’t seem to entirely let go of hoping for it. Guess I’m just a sucker for pain and heartbreak.
I walk up close to him, until we are standing toe to toe. He stares at me, his pupils wide and his breaths fast.
“Thank you for the lovely evening,” I say.
He tenses as I lean in, but I only kiss his cheek in true Hollywood style. I sense the moment he realizes that’s all I’m doing. His shoulders sag in relief and I want to cry in despair. He offers me his other cheek and I take it because beggars can’t be choosers.
“Goodnight,” he breathes softly.
His lips are so close to mine. I can’t stop staring at them. Time pauses as I battle with temptation. Eventually, I rouse myself and step back.
“Goodnight,” I repeat.
He flashes me a look of pure devastation but it’s quickly hidden by his charming grin. I blink for a moment, wondering if I was seeing things. But I don’t think I am. He really wants to kiss me too.
My heart skips, my head spins, and butterflies take over my stomach. If there is real, true, genuine hope, I don’t mind waiting at all. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Just because he wants to kiss me and presumably fuck me, doesn’t mean he is interested in anything more.
He liked fucking me that one time. He could just want a repeat.
I turn away and head for my room with a soft smile on my face. I wouldn’t mind a repeat at all. It would be reckless and foolish and my stupid heart would no doubt get confused, but Kit in my bed again would be worth all the pain in the world.
My tentative good mood blossoms. Kit wants me, well my body at least. It will only be a matter of time before he gets over his hero complex and gives into lust. Once I have him in my bed, maybe I can convince him I’m worth more.
