WhatdoI want? I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure.
When I agreed to come on this trip, to do this job, I thought it was just about the money. But I also promised Noah I’d enjoy myself, because he was right. As much as I hate to admit that. This experience—spending seven days with Aaron and his family—I am enjoying it. Even though it’s only been a day, I have a feeling the remaining ones are going to be just as perfect. And I think that's another problem.
Because I likethem, too. Aaron’s family. And spending this time with them makes me miss my own family.
I haven’t seen my mom in ages, mostly because I’ve been booked solid for months and she’s been traveling in Europe with her boyfriend. After the divorce, things were rough between her and my dad. Noah took it pretty hard, but things got better when dad moved away with his girlfriend and when mom found Cruz. They’ve been together for a couple years now. I’m not sure what theintentis there, the end game. But I know mom’s happy, so I try not to worry about it the way Noah does.
But being here with Aaron’s family—well, I guess I can kind of pretend they’re my family too, under the guise of my persona, Prince Charming. For a few days, anyway.
Aaron removes his shirt, carefully folding it and setting it on top of the dresser. I watch the way his shoulder muscles cord together, watch as he slowly unbuckles his belt. I feel frozen. Unable to move or tear my gaze from him.
He looks up at me, his hands halfway on his belt.
“You okay?”
“You ask me that a lot,” I say, removing my shirt. I don’t miss the way his gaze flashes to my chest.
“Because I want to make sure you are okay. With this.” He returns to his belt as I work on my own pants, my heart in my damn throat.
“Withme.And what we’re doing.”
I watch as he shoves his pants down and steps out of them. The light cast shadows on his body, on his pronounced erection.
“I am,” I say solidly. “Okay with this. What we’re doing. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I wasn’t.”
I watch as he saunters away and turns off the light before he turns on his bedside lamp. It gives just enough light for me to see him, to see the covers as I pull them down slowly, settling into them.
He pulls the covers down on his side, then looks at me.
“For the record,” I start. “If you want me to be okay, stop acting like we’re walking on glass,” I say honestly. “I’m your boyfriend, right? Just pretend that Ireallyam. Pretend that this is the most normal thing, because it is.”
I hear the stupid fucking hope in my voice, and I hate that I don’t hate it as much as I should. Because it feels like what I’m asking is dangerous. For both of us. Yes, I want us to put on an Oscar-worthy performance that Meryl Streep would lose her mind over, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to bask in the fantasy of what it’s like to behis.
I take a step towards the bed and then another until I’m slowly crawling in. Aaron licks his lips. He hesitates.
“I’m trying,” he says softly. “But it’s harder than I thought it would be.”
His voice is guilty. Sad, even. I hate it. I hate hearing that voice tinged with melancholy, and I hate that I might be contributing to it in some way.
“Are you?” I ask, fixing my gaze on him.
“Am I what?” His voice is thick.
“Okay? With what we’re doing?” I blame my tiredness for my bluntness, and as I start to worry about the fact I’ve said too much, Aaron nods as he gets in beside me.
“Yes.” He looks at me with that deep brown gaze, holding me still. There’s a modicum of space between us, but it feels more vast than what it actually is.
I scoot closer, seeking his warmth. It’s cold on my side. He definitely notices, but he doesn’t say anything.
I know I should feel awkward, or even a little apprehensive right now, but the truth is I don’t. I feel comfortable in a way I haven’t felt in a long time, and I know it’s not just the fact this bed is soft and warm and like a damn cloud.
He scoots closer, draping one arm over my hip. He tugs me closer, and I let him, liking the feel of his palm on my skin.
“This okay?” he whispers. I nod.
“Cuddling is definitely okay,” I say with a tired laugh. I snuggle into his hold, noting the smile on his face as I do so. His hold tightens as he rubs my side.
“If it wasn’t, I would tell you.” I implore his gaze, needing him to understand. “Trust that if I ever feel uncomfortable, I’ll tell you, okay?”
