We’re lying naked in my new bed twenty minutes and one round of shower sex later, me inside Slade’s arms as he spoons me from behind.
I inhale slowly, savoring the feeling of being back together like this again.
“Where are you staying?”
“A place nearby,” Slade answers evasively.
I turn inside his arms to look at him. “A place? Does it have a roof?”
“Of course it does.”
I study him, not convinced. “Is it a hotel?”
He sighs, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him so our bodies are flush. The heat of his skin spills into mine and I shiver happily at the contact.
“It’s a hostel. It’s fine. I have a bed.”
“In your own room? What about a bathroom, do?—?”
“I’m fine, Jude,” he scolds. “You don’t need to worry. I’ve shared plenty of rooms and bathrooms before.”
“What was your place like when you lived here before?”
His expression shutters closed like he’s assaulted with a painful memory, and I curse myself for being so insensitive.
“I’m sorry?—”
“I had a penthouse near my brother’s. Five bedrooms. Home gym and sauna. Private elevator.”
“Wow,” I say, studying him.
“Yeah. It was pretty sweet.”
“And what did you do? For work, I mean?”
“I was training to take over as head of international marketing.”
“For Beaufort Diamonds?”
“Yeah. Keeping all the business in the family,” he murmurs.
“Did you… were you seeing anyone before it happened?”
He looks at me, his lips twitching. “You getting jealous, New York City?”
“As if, Cowboy.” I snort. “But I’d like to know if a heartbroken ex could show up at my door looking for you.”
His voice rumbles in amusement before he speaks. “There’s no one. The last girl I slept with was the one-night thing I told you about.”
The girl in Miami. I remember. Because stupidly, I was jealous when I heard that. That she knew him before all of this happened. That she got to witness the carefree Slade who didn’t have pain hidden in his eyes.
I would have loved to have known him then.
“Can’t even remember her name. Nicola, maybe?” Slade says.
“So, a hostel with a shared bathroom?” I say, shifting the subject from other women, because the thought of him with anyone else—even before we met—makes my stomach tighten.
Slade pushes at my lower lip where I’m sticking it out in a pout. I don’t like the idea of him being in a room with strangers when just being back in New York must be indescribably hard for him.
