His expression softens as his shoulders relax. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell a soul about the ‘definitely not bad’ almost sex we had last night,” he says in a terrible English accent.
I close my eyes and bash the back of my head against the door. I can’t believe he heard that.
He runs a finger over his chest in an X motion. “And I’m not planning on telling anyone going forward, cross my heart.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you. But things aren’t ‘going forward’. No matter how...” I pause to find the best word. “...enjoyable it was, it was one and done.”
“Sure.” He smiles, somehow amused by my protestations. “Whatever you want.” His throat bobs as I study him.
Annoyed by my moment of transfixion, I decide to double down. “In fact, in hindsight, I don’t even find you that attractive.”
His head tilts, his jaw muscles ticking as his smile turns practically devious, like he’s discovered a secret nobody else knows. “Don’t lie to yourself—you like me.” A thrill shoots up my spine as I watch his tongue roll; urgh, his mouth is perfect.
I cross my arms. “I’m completely indifferent.” My breath deepens as I realize how close we are.
“Yeah, you seem indifferent, dragging me intoanotherbathroom.” He tilts his head as his voice lowers to a whisper. “Do you have some sort of kink I should be made aware of?” The light dances in his eyes as he whispers seductively, “Is this yourthing?”
I close my eyes, hoping it will stop my cheeks from flaming so hot they almost hurt. The problem with closing my eyes, though, are the short-term memories actively turning from soft and malleable to rock-hard in my mind. The feel of the hot water running down my naked back, his tongue brushing against mine, his lips and fingers exploring every inch of my soaking wet body.
I open my eyes. “Oh my god, you are insufferable!”
He steps in closer, his eyes glinting playfully. “You’re uptight and a goody-goody.”
I press my back against the door, meeting his eye. “You’re unserious and unprofessional.” My heart races against my rib cage like it’s trying to draw me forward toward him.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You like me,” he repeats. “And I like you.” Imagine being as self-assured as this man. Okay, being insanely good-looking, over six feet tall, and possessing the hands of a god would probably contribute to this kind of complex.
I lift my chin, cutting a glance to his mouth, then back up to him. “You’re completely delusional.”
“But I’m also right,” he quips back, eyes set in razor-sharp focus.
“You have to stop.” Our low, shallow breaths dance betweenus. He has to stop because I don’t think I can. Being near him feels almost like a physical pull, an ache needing to be salved. I want to lean into the feeling, have it envelop me like a duvet so I can disappear under it forever. In an ideal world, I would be running into a bathroom to throw cold water on my face, but that privacy is working to my detriment right now.
His face moves closer to mine, and I don’t stop him, our lips almost brushing. “Stop what, exactly? Turning you on?”
“Looking at me like that with your ooey-gooey eyes and floppy hair.” I try not to think about when I was holding on to that hair for dear life. My hands are magnetized; they want to float up to him again.
His mouth twists into a smile as an eyebrow lifts. “My ooey-gooey eyes and floppy hair?” He places a hand above my head. “I think that was almost a compliment.”
“But not quite.” I shake my head.
He studies me for an excruciating few seconds, then presses in closer, his free hand brushing lightly over my waist, making my stomach muscles tense. His voice smooths against my cheek. “Hmmm, I don’t know. It almost sounds like you’re attracted to me or something...”
Like an engine struggling to start, my throat lets out a feeble growl as I pound his chest with the full force of my body, barely making him flinch, but he steps back anyway, nearly stumbling into the sink.
“You cannot tell anyone about last night, I’m serious,” I say, ignoring the fact that I can feel his heart racing under my hands. The pounding infiltrates my core, making my knees turn to jelly.
“I won’t if you admit it to yourself,” he says in a low smooth tone.
I let out a breath. “Okay, fine! I’m attracted to you! But if we’re both going to Paris, we’ll just have to be... friendly... with each other.”
His jaw ticks as his demeanor shifts ever so slightly. “We spent hours talking at the assistants party; it would be suspicious if we weren’t,” he says defiantly.
“Sure. We can be friends.” I hold my hand out to shake; he glances at it and then takes my hand in his.
Engulfing my palm with his, he says, “Friends who have seen the other naked, but friends nonetheless.” His thumb traces the back of my hand.
A crackle of a speaker cuts through the tension.“Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be heading into a section of heavy clouds. Please head back to your seats when the seat belt light turns on.”
