There is silence for a moment, and my body is leaden. I’ve got to tell her a piece of the truth, even if I don’t wantto.
“He’s interested in you,” I say hoarsely. “That’s why I didn’t want you with us. And that’s why I was trying so hard to meet him elsewhere.”
She rolls my way once more. “What?”
“He’s got a crush on you. Peter. Surely you noticed…He’s incredibly obvious. I think it’s the reason he stayed in Paris tonight when he could have gone home this morning.”
Her brow furrows. “But…he knows we’re married.”
Fuck. That’s a whole other story, one I’m not getting into now. “I think he suspects it won’t last and is biding his time. Anyway, that’s why I didn’t want you down there.”
She could easily ask why I care when this thing between us is ostensibly fake, a question I’ve avoided asking myself, but…I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
“You never mentioned he was working for you,” she says. “I tell you everything but it’s like you only reveal what you have to with me.”
“It’s complicated,” I reply.
I can’t keep using that as an excuse, but it is. It’s complicated. My whole fucking life is complicated and getting more so by the minute.
And she’s the most complicated part of all.
Bex
Theo is a cuddler.
He’s the last person in the world I’d have assumed was a cuddler. I would fully have expected him to complete coitus with whatever supermodel was in his bed and then voice-direct his phone to find her a ride home.
But I digress. My point is that when I wake just before dawn, Theo is curled up around me as if I’m his most beloved stuffed animal, if his beloved stuffed animal gave him a boner. Because Theo definitely has one, and I’d relish ridiculing him for it later if he wasn’t in here out of the goodness of his heart.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m totally going to ridicule him for it later.
I don’t know what happened to the pillow that was between us, but it’s long gone. Or perhaps Theo’s massive penis pushed into it so hard it disintegrated.
I pull the collar of his T-shirt to my nose. Though it was on me for the last few hours, hours during which I slept like the dead, I can still smell him on it. Hotel soap, aftershave, salty skin. I take a deep inhale, wishing he’d let me hold on to the shirt. Wishing I hadn’t worn it at all so the traces of myshampoo would be gone and it would be entirely him, six-foot-something and overly warm behindme.
With an absolutely staggering erection, one that is nestled against the crack of my ass, pressing a little tighter when he exhales, releasing when he inhales, with his large hand wrapped around my hip.
I picture raising my knee, slipping my panties to the side, letting him rub against me until it accidentally just…happened. Based on the size of that thing, it would take a little more effort than that, but I’m soaked and swollen at the image anyway.
His breathing changes, gets a little faster, and he presses harder against my ass, his hand tightening on my hip as he pulls me closer. Air pushes through my lips, a quiet huff of desperation.
“Fuck,” he whispers, removing himself, awake at last.
“Don’t stop now,” I tell him with a forced laugh. “I think you were close.”
“Jesus Christ, Bex,” he snaps, shoving another pillow between us and rolling in the other direction.
I think I like unconscious Theo better.
• • •
We start shooting early, as Paris in July is approximately a million degrees, but even if we’re starting early…a twelve-mile run is still a twelve-mile run.
It’s also not a twenty-six-mile run, and I’m failing to see how one thing could ever lead to the other.
Theo is already up and about by the time my alarm goes off. I put on my workout clothes and walk out into the suite. “I need a nap, not a jog.”
“Me too,” he replies. “Someone kept me up all night with her chitchat.”
