Page 53 of Read My Lips

Simon’s nostrils flared with the strength of his exhale. “He’s an egregious tit most of the time. You’re very willfully missing my point here.”

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Do I rile you up?”

“Better.” His grin curved. “Not like that.”

What did he even mean?

Simon drew his cards towards him. Squaring off the pile, he shuffled, fanning them in together with steady control.

I forced myself to focus on the cards, not the boggy mire of Simon’s head-fuckery. But he wasn’t dealing. He kept passing them between his hands, from one to the other, and back again.

“Today’s sort of like a holiday, isn’t it? You’re not really my interpreter when it’s only the two of us. I don’t need you to be.”

Oh fuck. There was quicksand everywhere and I was drowning.

“Absolutely. I’m just some bloke having the best night ever, thrashing you at cards.”

Simon snorted a laugh, lolling back against the sofa. “You are having the best night ever. You know you are.”

The urge to grin at him gnawed into my cheek muscles. A rogue sofa spring jabbed at me from beneath the cushions. I shifted to get more comfy.

“Yeah.” Fuck self-preservation. “I am.”

Simon took my hand, and his voice dropped low and soft, barely louder than breathing.

“We could pretend we’re here for other reasons. Today. If you wanted to.”

The still silence of the empty house crackled all around us. My heart thud-thudded, pulse slow and heavy. I didn’t care if he’d put a ring in my nose and was leading me by it. He knew exactly where I wanted to go.

“Pretend what, exactly?”

In the lamplight, Simon’s eyes were molten and deep. His arm stretched along the back of the sofa. He’d only have to lift his hand to touch me. And he did. One finger traced the line of my cheekbone, down my jaw, rising goosebumps along the side of my throat where I wanted him to bloody well bite me.

“That everything I told Temp was true. That nothing’s more complicated than us being together.”

“You’d... want that?” I croaked.

“For tonight? Yes.”

“Me too.” My voice lost its sound. I was barely forming words, but Simon’s soft smile told me he knew exactly what I’d said anyway.

“When this is over, you’re my interpreter again.”

I nodded, once. Like an obedient robot.

Simon swallowed visibly, barely holding himself back. Maybe he was in the middle of a really bad dry spell. He had to be, looking at me like that.

“Tell me something true, Ben. Tonight can I be me, and you be you, and sex just be sex?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. Zero hesitation. Hundred percent commitment to my flashing neon lie. “Course it can.”

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Up on my toes, I snatched at Simon’s mouth, and he didn’t stop me. He kissed me back – all lips and careful, guarded teeth and a hint of the red wine on his tongue. The long, sleek lines of his body were addictive. I didn’t want to stop touching him.