When he finally speaks, I can hear the grin in his voice.
“I haven’t felt this good in weeks.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, me neither.”
He turns his head on the pillow to look at me, and I glance over at him too. His hair is a mess and his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips a bit swollen and his cheeks flushed. He looks so real andhumanthat makes my heart skip.
After a long beat, he gets up and pads into my bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he stretches out next to me and his hand finds mine on the mattress, his fingers lacing through mine without him seeming to think about it. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and that tiny gesture makes my throat go tight.
I force myself to speak before I can change my mind about what I’m about to say.
“You should…” I clear my throat. “You should probably head back to your room.”
His thumb stills against my knuckles. “Yeah?”
I wince, worried that I’ve insulted him. But… “That was the deal, right? Sex, but no feelings. I feel like sleeping in the same bed would probably cross a line.”
He’s quiet for a minute. Then he nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Still, he doesn’t move right away. He turns my hand over in his and traces a line along my palm with his thumb, his eyes on mine, and the look on his face is one I can’t quite place. Finally, he sits up. He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering there as his breath ghosts over my skin through the part in my hair. Then he gets out of my bed and pulls on his pants. At the door, he pauses and looks back at me, his face shadowed.
“Goodnight, Olivia.”
“Goodnight.”
He closes the door behind him. I bite my lip, listening to his footsteps fade down the hall, and tell myself I made the right choice. This is exactly what we agreed to.
Once I’m sure my legs will work, I get up to use the bathroom, wash my face, then crawl into bed, pulling the sheets up around me. I curl into a ball, my eyelids starting to droop, but as I start to drift off, a sliver of worry creeps into my thoughts and takes root.
Even though I was the one who brought up the fact that we shouldn’t share a bed, I can’t stop the gnawing, overwhelming feeling that I might be falling for Reed.
That if I dive too deep into this, I might not be able to swim back to the surface.
Chapter 18
Reed
I arriveat work on Monday morning even earlier than usual, a spring in my step. After the weekend I just had, it’s all I can do to keep myself from whistling like a cheerful cartoon character.
Olivia was right; our previous arrangement just wasn’t going to cut it. This, though… this, I think I can handle.
When I sit down at my desk, the first thing I do—as always—is scroll quickly through my email, looking for anything important, anything that requires my immediate attention. My inbox is always inundated, but only certain emails require action as soon as I see them.
Luckily, there are no emergencies for me to jump on this morning. I do notice, however, that I have an email from the photographer who did our PR engagement shoot—with a link to the collection.
I click it open, then scroll through the gallery link. After the photographer’s professional touches—softening the backgrounds, and the like—the photos really are stunning.
I’m glad that Olivia changed into the more comfortable dress; in the natural, rustic setting of the gazebo, it’s the perfect look. She seems so genuinely happy.
As I scroll through, though, I find myself starting to frown. Some of these pictures are so… intimate. Personal. The one that the photographer snapped right after our kiss, where we were both caught up in the moment—there’s such an obvious connection between us that I’m taken aback just looking at it.
All I can think is,I don’t want anyone else to see this.
I open up a window to reply to the photographer, thanking him for his patience and his skills and ordering a few of the prints for the press. I make sure to select a few of the more classic shots: the ones of me holding Olivia, of her laughing.
They’re still nice pictures, of course, but they’re less… emotional. I do make sure to save a few of my favorites, though. One where we’re locked in a kiss, and another where we’re looking into each other’s eyes.
They’re too good to leave untouched. I just don’t want to send them to the press.
