Finally, Edward begs off again, and we retreat to the side of the dance floor. He looks wiped out, rumpled.
I rub my collarbone. “I think I might need to call it a night,” I tell him. “My apologies.”
“I understand. I might need to do the same,” Edward confesses. “I’ve discovered muscles in places where I hadn’t known muscles existed.”
We laugh, then study each other.
“I had fun with you tonight,” Edward admits. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Yeah, I get it. The rumors and all that about me.”
“Please, let me know if you would like to do this again. To help with your… situation.”
“I will,” I assure him, and we share a hug before I head out first. Checking my phone, it’s just past midnight. Respectable enough, I’d say, though James’ night’s probably just starting, knowing him.
When I reach my suite, I untuck my shirt and pour a generous whisky before flopping in a chair, rolling my head forward and rubbing the nape of my neck. My ears ring from the dance music, and right now, the silence feels deafening.
Finally, in the privacy of my room, I open his text, and I’m rewarded with a gorgeous, shirtless photo of Stef, leaning into the frame, with a mischievous smile that captures my full attention.
Fuck me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I try to think of an appropriate response, aside from the stirring of my cock. I text a reply, a string of fire emojis.
I consider for a moment unbuttoning my shirt further after a gulp of my drink. I teasingly run a hand up my chest to the back of my neck, biting my lower lip, and take a short video clip of the action for Stef’s benefit. Then, with a certain resolve, I hit Send.
That’ll give Stef something to consider.
Flipping on the television, I aimlessly go through channels, restless. Late-night comedy reruns. Sports highlights. Films. Meanwhile, I try not to do mental calculations about what time it might be in New York through the champagne haze. Or what Stef might be doing right now.
Then my phone buzzes to life five minutes later. I reach for it.
* * *
Hot
You wanna see more? Cause I’ve got more x
Exhibitionist
You don’t know the half of it. Is that a no?
It’s a yes please
Right, then. I hate to delay giving the people what they want, so I video call Stef. It rings a few times before he answers, looking flustered. He’s in my black camp collar shirt from the night we first met.
“Excellent wardrobe choice.” I run my eyes appreciatively over him.
“I was out earlier, and I still had it and?—”
“No complaints here, believe me. Shirts are meant to be worn. Except when you take them off,” I drawl teasingly. “I’d love to see that even more.”
Stef smiles, a little coy, the corners of his mouth flickering in a way I’m totally into. Obligingly, he unbuttons the top two buttons of my borrowed shirt. “I wanted to wear this because I think it still smells like you. Your laundry soap or whatever’s going on in your closet.”
“Mm, go on…”
“…and I guess I miss you. Even though I shouldn’t.”
