I want him on his knees.
But I don’t know what last night meant, or how to stomach it. My body may be begging to crawl back to him, and my heart may be desperate to beat within his reach, but my mind is twisted and so fucking confused.
“What was that about?” Bennett’s voice is loud in my ear, and his fingertips brush my shoulder as he finds his seat in the booth across from me. On his way, he sets my chicken salad sandwich and fries on the table.
“Huh?” I mumble, picking up a fry and shoving it into my mouth. I haven’t eaten since dinner after work yesterday, and it’s lunch time.
I spent all morning in my car, stressing out and reliving every moment of last night.
“Rowan. I haven’t seen him in here in… well, I don’t know when I’veeverseen him in here. And there seemed to be some tension. Everything okay?” Bennett has his charm turned up to ten, and he’s watching me with clear interest.
But I can also sense the slight annoyance in the way his eyes are darting to the window, in the direction Rowan went, and the tapping of his fingers against the table in rapid succession.
I’m not sure why I feel the need to lie to him, but I do.
“Everything’s fine. We had drinks yesterday since we’re doing the interview.” Not technically a lie, just withholding of the truth.
Bennett raises a brow. “He actually agreed to that?”
I shrug. “Yeah, it only took me showing up uninvited three times and cornering him at the grocery store.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Bennett does not laugh.
He’s watching me intently, and as I catch his eyes tracing my neck, I realize he suspects the truth anyway.
But Rowan left no visible marks—I checked in my car’s mirror this morning. Bennett must have killer intuition—or it’s written all over my expression.
“I’m just shocked, that’s all. He isn’t someone who can be persuaded.” Those fingers tap harder, faster. “Now that your questions are answered, you shouldn’t have to go out there anymore, right?”
Shit. I never got my questions answered! We went straight into photos, which led straight into sex!
“Ah, actually…” I scratch my wrist, a nervous tic, and look out the window. “I still need to ask him some questions.”
I’m not sure why I feel so guilty, or why I’m not just telling this guy that I fucked Rowan instead of interviewing him as I should have. But the blank stare he’s leveling me with and the tapping of his damn fingers are kind of driving me crazy.
“Didn’t have time to ask them all?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Something like that.”
The tapping finally stops, and that brings my attention back to Bennett. He leans forward onto the table, flashing me a grin that reveals those cute little canines.
“Well, I’m happy you came in for lunch. I should get back at it, and I’m sure you’d like some time to yourself. You look pretty tired. I’ll see you later, Eli.” Then Bennett is walking away, and I’m staring after him as he goes.
You look pretty tired.
He’s fucking with me. He knows what I did last night—he can probably see it on my face, or smell it on the clothes I have yet to change out of.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and pop another French fry into my mouth. What has my life come to?
I feel much more optimistic about being alive once I’ve showered. Fresh as a daisy and with nothing else to do for the day, I flop onto my couch and turn on the TV.
Only, nothing is holding my attention, and I can’t stop my mind from returning to last night. To his hands, his mouth, the way he settled so deep inside of me as if my body was molded this way specifically to accommodate his.
“Little angel,”he had said, staring at me as if I were a prize he had won. As if he’d been waiting for me for so long.
I am no angel—but fuck me if it doesn’t feel so good when he calls me one. When he looks at me as if I’m something to be worshipped, to be loved and cherished. I could play that part. I could be sweet and soft.
For him, I could.
And isn’t that, in itself, a startling revelation? The man who changes for no one—who feels nothing more than a fleeting attraction or appreciation—is willing to play a part so drastically different than his own.
