Marco doesn’t respond, just scrubs a hand over his face.
I keep my gaze forward, my pulse still unsteady. After a couple of minutes, I hear Liev snore next to me. In another five, he slumps against my shoulder. My eyes cut to Marco, but he’s sound asleep with headphones on.
A glance over my shoulder shows that Dani and Keke both have their backs to me. I count to ten and then allow myself to tip my head into his. The heavy, solid weight of him on my side is so comforting that I close my eyes. I smile when he snuffles in his sleep.
I know Liev is attracted to me. That part is simple. He hasn’t tried to hide it, and he hasn’t pushed past what I’ve been able to give. What he hasn’t said—what he’s careful to leave untouched—is anything beyond that. No talk of feelings. No suggestion that this is more than a proximity and chemistry kind of thing.
That should make this easier. If I tense up, or can’t follow through, he’ll be gone.
And if I don’t? What possible future is there for us?
He’s never said anything that indicates he wants a relationship. We’re experimenting. It’s just sex. The thought makes me sad in a way I don’t really want to examine.
But what if he does want more? Sometimes I catch him looking at me and I think…
I’ve been wrong before. I trusted my judgment and ignored all the warning signs before. I live with the consequences of that failure in judgment every day.
Liev doesn’t strike me as a man who does relationships. He moves through the world with such certainty about his place in it—a place that is so different from mine, taking what he wants when he wants it. I can’t see him reshaping his life around anyone else, and I don’t know why I’m even trying to imagine it.
His breathing deepens beside me, slow and even, and I angle my head just enough to look at him. Sleep smooths the severity from his face. The lines at his eyes and across his forehead soften, his constant vigilance eased for once. He looks younger like this, less guarded. I know, with a quiet certainty that settles low in my chest, that even if he never feels what I’m feeling, he will never knowingly hurt me. A strange mix of longing and sadness clenches behind my ribs, and before I can reconsider, I lean in and press a lingering kiss to his hair.
I pull back, heat creeping up my neck.
What am I doing?
I’m on assignment for my brother, and I’m behaving like a teenager whose crush just fell asleep against her shoulder on the bus.
That realization should snap me back into place.
It doesn’t.
There’s no way I’m going to last until we get back to Atlanta.
Chicago is gray and cold,and by the time we escape Keke’s complaints and shut the door to our room, I feel like I’ve been gritting my teeth for hours.
She was immediately displeased when she realized her room wasn’t a suite. And she was equally thrilled to learn that, for safety reasons, the door between our adjoining rooms had to stay unlocked.
Liev places my suitcase on the floor between the two double beds.
Our home for the next three nights.
I cross to the window and pull the curtain back a few inches to stare at the traffic creeping along below us. Liev moves behind me, close enough that I catch his scent before I hear his bag hit the floor. The zipper opens. Every sound feels louder than it should.
This is ridiculous. It’s not like we didn’t sleep next to each other last night.
I turn away from the window and open my suitcase, shaking out one of my blazers before hanging it in the small closet.
“Keke has interviews all day tomorrow, and on the itinerary Todd sent, she needs to film some social media posts for her sponsors,” I say, mostly to fill the silence.
“They’re still letting her post?” Liev’s wry tone brings my attention back to him.
The smile on my face falters when I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, forearms resting loosely on his thighs. He’s unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt, and the ink along his collarbone makes my mouth water. Then, as if he knows what it does to me, he slowly rolls up one sleeve. Then the other. Never breaking eye contact. Heat floods my body so fast it almost hurts.
“Yeah,” I croak and then clear my throat. “And the event is the next day.”
A charged silence fills the small room.
“You okay?” He tilts his head. “You look nervous.”
