I straightened. “Okay, but this isn’t the sixties. A lot of people are open about their sexuality. I don’t understand why?—”
“No, I guess it’s hard to understand unless you’re her.” He ground his teeth. “Vivian’s been my closest friend for over a decade. She’s worked so hard for this. Too hard. Every role she’s had led her down this path. Last summer, someone talked. The press loves to dig deep if they think they’ve got a story, especially before a big release. The production company nearly dropped her.” John folded his hands, then unfolded them. “This is her dream.”
“You got engaged so people would stop asking questions.” It wasn’t a question.
From the outside, it could look like a minor inconvenience. I could see that the target audience of a Bond movie—white, cis, straight men—might not like the idea of the Bond girl actually being unavailable. Thathe, god forbid, never really had a chance. It would ruin the fantasy. I could see people boycotting the movie, Vivian’s career getting threatened. And coming out? Not everyone had Otis’s supportive parents. I hadfriends at Garland’s who lost their families because of the small-mindedness of the people they grew up with. As a celebrity, the pressure to perform, to be a persona, must be suffocating. If Otis had worked his whole life for an opportunity like that, and a rumor threatened it, hell...I’d marry him in a heartbeat.
And now, John was handing me this—his best friend’s secret. If I spoke, I could ruinhisOatcake.
“Why are you telling me this?”
He tugged a strand of hair behind my ear. “Because these are all the truths I can part with right now. If I were smarter, I’d stay away from you. But maybe for once I want to be selfish.” He dropped his hands. “I have a proposal for you. Do you want to hear it?”
I raised a brow, pretending to deliberate. “I guess.”
He pulled me closer until our knees touched. His eyes flickered to my lips. “We both agree this is a bad idea, right?” He dragged his finger over my lips.
“Right.” My breath hitched.
“And you don’t date.”
“I don’t.”
“And I can’t date.” His finger trailed lower, over my neck and exposed collarbone.
“You can’t—” I gasped as his lips followed the path his fingers had made.
“So we just do this.” He rolled me into the mattress, hovering above me.
“This?” I breathed.
“Have fun.” He kissed me. “In between.”
“Fun. Yes.” Fun sounded good. Fun sounded nice. My eyelids fluttered as he rolled his hips into mine.
“No one needs to know.”
It would be awful if anyone found out. Embarrassing as hell. It would look like I had no self-control. “No one can know,” Iagreed. Though John having me pinned underneath him wasn’t exactly a fair starting point for a negotiation.
“And when this competition is over?—”
“No hard feelings.” I gasped as his hand slid under my shirt, covering my breast. “No... strings.”
“That’s right. Because while I’m still going to win?—”
“You won’t.”
“While I’m still going to win,” he smirked, “not touching you would distract me too much. I need a clear head. Because if I have to sleep in the room next to you, but can’t touch you—” He slipped his hand between my legs. I rolled my neck back. “I will go absolutely feral, Nora.”
“Say it again.”
“What?” His breath was warm on my lips.
“My name.”
He leaned down, whispering in my ear.
“Nora.”
