“If that’s what you want,” he says carefully.
“It’s what makes sense.”
“Sense.” He huffs a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure. We’re being sensible.”
“Exactly. Two sensible adults having sensible orgasms with no sensible emotional entanglements, which is fitting as I’m a sensible person.”
He quirks his eyebrow. “You own a purple dildo named the Destroyer.”
“A sensible choice in pleasure equipment.”
He shakes his head, but some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Okay, Archie. No confessions. No complications. Just…this.”
“Just this,” I agree.
Even as I say them, the words taste like a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leo
The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse is a lesson in how to create an intimate atmosphere.
Candlelight flickers from chandeliers that look like they were imported from the sixteenth century, casting shadows across the three tiers of seating.
Andrew messaged me asking if I wanted to come and seeRomeo and Julietperformed in the indoor part of The Globe Theatre. And even though I’ve never been much of a Shakespeare fan, not growing up in a house where literature was consumed, I accepted the invitation.
Why?
The question sits uncomfortably inside me.
If I’m honest with myself, I accepted because I thought bringing Elizabeth here might impress her.
Apparently, I’m trying to win the approval of the fake boyfriend I’m sleeping with’s godmother.
Fuck, this is getting complicated.
Elizabeth sweeps ahead of Archie and me, completely at ease, greeting someone in the audience.
Of course this is her natural habitat.
But my biggest problem isn’t trying to conceal my ignorance in front of Archie’s aristocratic godmother at a culturally significant theatrical venue.
My biggest problem is that all I want to do is touch Archie.
My hand is resting at the small of his back now.
I’m steadying him. The floor could be uneven. It’s practical.
Except my thumb is tracing small circles against his spine, and there’s nothing practical about that.
The problem with sleeping with Archie Mansley is that it makes it very difficult to think about anything else.
We had a civilized dinner with Elizabeth last night, but the whole time I was trying not to remember what had happened that afternoon. Replaying Archie on his knees for me.
And we barely made it through the bedroom door last night before Archie was pulling at my shirt, his mouth hot against my throat. I’d wanted to take my time with him, but Archie had different ideas.
Archie always has different ideas.
