A slight curl of the lip as he fastens his trousers is all the indication he gives that he heard me. Stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket, he bends to pick up my shorts and holds them out to me. His eyes never leave me as I take them and put them on.
“Come and lie with me,” he says, a sincerity in his gaze that’s hard to look at. “No romance.”
“Promise?”
He gives me a sad little smile that makes my heart ache. “Yes.”
35
DIANA
In his bed, we fuck again, although perhaps fucking is the wrong word. It’s more likemaking love. It’s softer and more intimate, and how much it means to me, and how much I love it, terrifies me.
He lied when he said no romance, because this feels romantic and heavy and intimate, all the things I’ve always steered away from.
Afterwards, I nestle into him, my head on his shoulder, our bare legs intertwined.
“This shouldn’t feel so right,” he mutters, stroking his fingers down my arm. He looks almost dreamy as he stares down at me. His eyes are smiling, and I want to be looked at this wayalways.
Forever.
But at the same time, the softness in his gaze makes my stomach fall. This is wrong, and he knows it. I don’t want to reveal how unnerved I am by the way he’s looking at me, so I deliberately squint at him and say, “I’m insulted.”
He gently pushes me off and props himself up on an elbow. “You’re a sneaky little liar, is what you are. I really thought you were two different people. How did you do that?”
I puff my chest and affect a smug grin. “I’m very clever.”
He snorts. “No, seriously. How is your American accent so good?”
“My mother is from Atlanta. I heard it every day growing up, and we went there a lot for the holidays. I’d always pretend I was local. Fooled everyone.”
“Hmm. I can believe it. And the acting? The whole…” He pauses, frowning as if the right word momentarily eludes him. “Persona. It wasn’t you.”
He looks so perturbed that I want to kiss him again to make it all better. Not that I can do that, of course. We’re in too deep to repair this now. “I was head of the drama society at uni. Big into pretending to be other people.”
He flops back on the bed so he’s staring at the ceiling, seeming to consider my words. “Your videos are quite dramatic. I should have known.”
I snuggle into him again. His arm rests over my hip, pinning me to the bed, and I love how it feels; even if I tried to escape, he’d be strong enough to force me to stay.But he won’t.
Stroking my shoulder with a fingertip, he presses a kiss to my temple. “I thought about knocking on your door in the middle of the night so many times.”
My heart gives a hard thump. “But you never did.”
“No. Of course not.” He twists strands of my hair around his fingers. “But I wanted to. Every night.”
“From the very beginning?”
“Not the very beginning. I was still hung up on that other version of you. But when you looked at me in my office that first time, I felt something. I was pretty horrified at the idea I was attracted to you though.”
“Charming,” I deadpan.
He side-eyes me, but otherwise continues as though I haven’t spoken. “And then after the opera, and buying you the clothes, I couldn’t help but wonder what you might look likeoutof them. And more recently, yes. Every night, I wanted to knock on your bedroom door.”
“You should have.”
“God, no. I got used to tormenting myself, thinking every creak or noise in the night was you coming to find me. I think by the end, I enjoyed it; every night there was this stupid feeling of… potential. Like, maybe, tonight would be the night you’d come.” He lets out a low breath. “But you never did.”
“I wanted to.”
