There’s a heavy weight behind his words, and I wonder what he’s gone through. Maybe I’m not the onlytortured soul in this room. But this thing between us is only for one night, and the last thing I want is to bring the mood down by getting into our reasons for agreeing to just tonight.
“Something no one knows about me, huh?”
I nod.
He considers my question for a moment before saying, “I’m terrified of silence and the dark.”
His response catches me off-guard. “Terrified?”
“Beyond terrified. Petrified. I can’t sleep without some form of noise and light source. Usually the television.”
I swat his chest. “I said something no one else knows.”
He shoots me a wry smile. “No one else knows that about me. Promise.”
I scoff. “None of your past girlfriends noticed that about you?”
“No former girlfriends, or anyone, has spent the night in my bed.”
“How is that possible? There’s no way someone who looks like you is a…” My breath hitches as I think about how he was adamant this wouldn’t have to go any further than what I was comfortable with, and my cheeks heat as I whisper, “Virgin.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m definitely not a twenty-five-year-old virgin, pixie. That’s not why I’m not pushing for anything more. I don’t let anyone close enough to spend the night.”
That piques my curiosity. “Why does it sound like someone’s hurtyou, striker?”
“Next question,” he says with a wink.
“You’re twenty-five?”
He smirks and brushes his knuckles across my cheek. “I am. Is that a problem?”
My face flushes. “Not for me, but I’m older than you.”
“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in the crook of my neck and nipping at the sensitive flesh. “A cougar. That’s hot. How much older are we talking?”
I close my eyes, my pulse racing at his touch. “I’m thirty-four.”
His finger trails between the valley of my breasts and down my stomach to circle my belly button.
I suck in a sharp breath.
“Oh mon Dieu,” I moan, falling into my native tongue.
He presses a chaste kiss to my lips, and I slowly open my eyes to meet his molten gaze. “An older womanandyou speak French. How’d I get so lucky?”
I hesitate, wondering if telling him would give me away, but considering our age difference, I don’t think there’s any chance of us crossing paths after tonight. “I moved here from France when I was three.”
“Wow, so you’re bilingual?”
“Multilingual actually. Every second year we would fly back for the summer, and we’d also visit my cousins in Spain.”
“That’s impressive. I’ve never left the country.”
“I haven’t been back for close to seven years.” I don’t know what makes me tell him that. It slips out before I can stop myself. One day, I’d like to take Tinsley so she can meet her family, but Edward’s refusing to sign her passport papers.
“Hey,” he says, pressing his lips to my shoulder. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.” Needing to get out of my head, I push him onto his back and straddle his thighs.
