Walking through the foyer, I send a smile in Marv’s direction, with Cole not far behind me, his hands buried deep in the front pockets of his jeans. This is the first time since lunch that his hands haven’t been on me in one way or another, and my body notices his absence.
It’s almost painful.
He just basically asked you to be with him, and you panicked. You don’t deserve to miss the way his hands feel on your skin.
Once we make it inside my apartment, I lock the door then deadbolt it, slide my shoes off, and I head to my room to finally put on clothes that I feel comfortable in. The need to care about others’ opinions doesn’t seem to exist anymore.
“You didn’t answer my question before,” I tell him as I take a seat next to him, watching as he pours us two glasses of Merlot.
At least he didn’t take my silence earlier as a reason to leave.
“Which question?” he croaks out, screwing the lid back on the bottle before putting it away into my cupboard.
“The things you told my mom at the diner. If they weren’t true, you didn’t need to lie about them just to make me come off more impressive to her,” I tell him, but the way his body stiffens tells me I’m way off.
“It was all true, but I’m not ashamed of the life I lived before.” He picks up the two glasses and makes his way toward me on the couch before he sits. Placing them onto their designated coasters, he turns to face me. “After living in places like Milan, Paris, and London, I moved to New York for a while. It was so much travel, and not a lot of enjoyment. After my last modeling gig three years ago, I decided I’d had enough of that life.” He shrugs, taking a sip. “But I told your mom about that side of me because I wanted her to see something that wasn’t physical. She couldn’t see someone like me with her daughter, but I wanted her to wonder what her daughter was doing with someone likeme. Someone who, most days, would have to search between his single bed mattress and the wall for money to buy dinner.” He laughs awkwardly, knowing he’s exposing all of himself to me.
“So, you became an actor instead?” I ask, watching a slight tinge of pink appear on his tanned cheeks.
“That was all Tate’s idea. He threw me into acting lessons and was adamant he could make me a star, completely ignoring my protests. Right now, I live in a tiny apartment above the Lotus where my clothes constantly smell like cigarettes and alcohol, which you painstakingly pointed out. The walls are stained yellow, and the floors creak with every step I take. I’m in my thirties, and I sleep on a single bed.” He sighs. “It’s so small that my feet hang off the end.” He shakes his head, his chest vibrating with laughter.
The Lotus.
No wonder I felt a pull to it.
I haven’t seen this side of him—the openness and the vulnerability—it’s making my insides tingle in a way they never have before, in a way I’ve never allowed myself to feel.
And it makes me want to agree to his offer from earlier, but the words just won’t come out of my mouth, no matter how hard I try and force them to.
“The Lotus?” I ask to make sure. I know in my gut that it’s exactly the same place I was just at with Margot. Which means we’ve been so close to each other for years without somehow ever crossing paths.
Maybe I just wasn’t ready to meet him until now.
Am I even ready to know him yet?
“The very same Lotus I saw you walk past the night after we met.” He inches a little closer to me, and I feel my body stiffen beside his. He’s getting too close for comfort, and alarm bells sound in my head.
If I kiss him, he’s going to think my answer isyes,and I’m not ready to make that type of decision.
Not yet.
“You should go,” I blurt out, quickly rising to my feet. I hurry to my kitchen and pour our full glasses of wine down the sink.
He pauses mid movement, watching me cautiously, waiting for me to tell him I’m kidding, and that we can watch our second movie for the night. But I don’t do any of that, because I won’t allow myself to get caught up in the moment. My brain is being logical in the words I say and the way I move, but my heart? My heart is begging,pleadingwith me to open up to him, while trying to claw its way out of my throat and into his hands.
To let him have a part of me that no one has ever evenwanted.
Yesterday I was riding his cock on the couch in my trailer after attempting to end things with him and he didn’t let me.
Of course he didn’t let me.
Because he wants you.
Today has been a lot, and the last thing I want to focus on is how the organ in my chest is doing things it’s never done before.
I’ve convinced myself that he was acting—that he was putting his talent to use when there were no cameras around—because there’s no universe in which a man likehimwould want a woman likeme.
My mom said so herself.
