She raised her brows at him.
He sighed. “Sorry. I imagine that’s easier said than done.”
“Yup.”
His dark curls had rumpled in the island breeze, and flecks of sand glinted on his cheekbones as the rosy light of the setting sun filtered through the gleaming windows and washed over his face. The creases across his forehead indicated his concentration.
On her. He was focused on her with such intensity, she wanted to bask in it.
“Which brings me to my second point.” He leaned over a bit, until just a thread of his grassy scent sent her pulse wobbling. “What do you need from me?”
He was in the edges of her space now, his face in her vision and his body a protective bulwark beside hers, and she couldn’t answer his question.
Pretending to be a couple today had proven easier than she’d anticipated. So easy she couldn’t tell the difference between what was genuinely happening between them and what was happening for the cameras, yet another reason for her confusion and concern.
But they were alone now, with no cameras and no boom mic and no producer. No tight-smiled tour guides or animatronic parrots with glassy eyes.
And he was still just as gentle. Just as attentive. Just as…
She could say it, if only to herself.
Just as loving.
So what did she need from him?
Everything. She needed everything.
But right now, everything would also scare the hell out of her, and she knew it.
His gaze skirted the length of her on the bed, just once, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Then he clarified his words, his voice a husky rasp, a flush cresting his cheekbones. “When you’re worried, do you need me to reassure you? Do you need me to try to fix whatever problems you might have? Or do you just need me to listen?”
Oh. That question she could answer. And she loved that he was asking it. That he didn’t have any preconceived ideas about how to deal with her worries, and he was letting her guide him in such an important matter.
There he was, asking for direction in the hopes of pleasing her. His eyes intent on her and her alone.
She shouldn’t think it. She really shouldn’t. But she couldn’t help it.
If they made love, would he be as attentive? As eager to please?
It was her turn to swallow past a dry throat. “Just listen, please. Thank you for asking.”
His blue eyes had turned nearly incandescent with heat as they studied her expression. Then, in one jerky motion, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, facing away from her.
“Do you feel any better?” Thomas’s voice was rough. “Or do you want me to contact the crew and tell them we need more time before dinner?”
To her surprise, she actually did feel better. Even though they hadn’t actually solved any of her problems, the simple act of discussing them had settled her. Eased her more comfortably into her own skin.
Or maybe she was simply distracted from her worries by sheer animal lust.
“Much better.” She laid a hand flat on his back, and his breath hitched. “Because of you.”
“I’m glad.” His breathing had become audible in the room, his triceps bunching as he gripped the edge of the bed.
If she didn’t want to push this further, she needed to let him go.
So she did, the loss of contact an ache.
They sat in silence for a minute.
