“There’s something else, huh?” I ask.
“This is going to be really awkward to bring up, please forgive me, but I’d appreciate your discretion regarding any other…entanglements. I know it’s not right of me to ask since we’re not—”
“Dating,” I finish, letting out a deep chuckle. I like that she gets nervous around me. The setting sun turns her hair a light shade of caramel.
“Exactly.”
“And you don’t want to be,” I say, needing to make sure.
She straightens a stack of papers that’s already perfectly aligned. “I don’t want to overshadowRobyn Hood.”
“I understand.”
“So?” She fidgets with her pearls draped along her perfect collarbones.
“There’s no one else,” I say, the truth slipping out before I can dress it up in something more casual. Truth is, however difficult it is to admit, I want to stay with Reese for as long as she lets me. She’s sort of invaded me, and I hate how easily—those cravings for other vices haven’t sparked up like they have in the past. I try not to think about what that means.
As if being with her…well, it doesn’t make me want to get lost. Escape myself. She makes me want to stay.
“Our media circuit won’t be long,” she says. “We’ll front-load our appearances, sprinkle them here and there. I’m sure it’ll only take a handful of outings to bury Felix’s headlines under our narrative. And then I can handle the rest.”
“I’m not worried, Reese. We’re good at improvising.”
“Very good,” she agrees.
“And everything else between us.” I place my hand on her dress under the table. “We can take it slow like we talked about?”
Her eyes drop to my hand on her leg. “You mean what happened in the armory?”
“Hollywood’s newest wild child needs to get comfortable talking about these things,” I tease.
“The…physical aspects?”
“Getting warmer,” I say gruffly.
“Sex?” My mind flashes, remembering the way she felt against me in the armory. How sweet her cunt tasted. How I’d do anything to hear her angelic moans again.
“Yes, I’d like that. Maybe we can keep things…” She pauses, choosing her words with the precision I’ve come to expect. “Casual. That’s more your style anyway, isn’t it? Simple, uncomplicated?”
I hate how correct her assumption is. “We can do casual,” I promise. “But we need boundaries. Working together, training, this—it’s a delicate balance.”
“Since when do you care about boundaries?”
“Since you decided to start breaking all the rules.”
“And you’ll keep me in line?” She bites her plush bottom lip, as if knowing I want to do the exact the same.
“Someone has to.” I grin, my fingers inch down the fabric of her dress. She sneaks a peak to the empty room behind us. “What are you comfortable with?”
“On set, can we go back to being ‘Mr. Hastings’ and ‘Miss Sinclair’? Exactly how we were before?”
Being professional on set while being reportedly linked will be interesting. Let the world keep guessing.
“I do love when you’re formal.”
She rolls her eyes. “And when we’re alone…”
“Just Reese and Dante?” I finish.
