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I don't know that you could even classify what we’re doing as a relationship, considering I have spent more time with him naked at night then I have clothed during the day. Regardless, he's fun and pretty decent in bed, which doesn't hurt.
“Well I could always try to take your mind off of it,” he croons, bringing a small smile to my face.
I don’t have to guess how he plans on doing that. I know this side of him well enough by now.
“Thank you for the offer, but phone sex doesn't sound that appealing at the moment.” I shake my head, knowing there is only one thing that can cure the ache that has been slowly building inside of me since I got my first glimpse at Westin after ten years.
I immediately push the thought away.
“When are you coming home again? My bed is so cold without you.” He whines in the cutest way, his accent clinging to every word.
“Tomorrow night. It's the earliest flight I could get back.”
I’m not surprised that he’s eager for me to return. Any man would miss a woman that comes over late at night, satisfies his sexual needs, before slipping out sometime before dawn. The situation works well for us. We both get what we need, no strings, and no complications.
I mean sure, we talk and hang out sometimes, but when we're outside of the bedroom, there's no heat, nothing that makes me feel like I’m out with anything more than a good friend.
“Can I expect a late night visit?”
“That’s unlikely. But I’ll let you know if I change my mind,” I tell him, deciding I should get back inside. “I should probably go. Chloe will be wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”
“Okay, well, have fun.”
“I’ll do my best,” I grumble.
“Text me tomorrow and let me know once your flight has landed.”
“I will.”
“Talk to you then.”
“Okay.” I disconnect the call, blowing out a slow breath.
Locking my phone, I press my back against the cool brick on the exterior of the building and look up at the darkening sky.
“Boyfriend?” I hear Westin before I see him, whipping around to find him leaning against the door frame watching me.
“Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?” I ask, not trying to hide my aggravation.
“What if I was?” he asks, closing the gap between us in two long strides.
“Westin,” I manage to get out before he steps closer, his hands going to the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
“Was that your boyfriend?” he asks again, dropping his head down to meet my gaze.
“I'm pretty sure you lost the right to know such things long ago,” I get out, my voice breathy and ragged from our close proximity.
He leans down even further, coming to a stop so close to my face that our noses practically touch. My breath catches in my throat, my pulse strumming so violently that I can feel it jumping against my neck.
“I’ve missed you.”
I snort.
“Oh yeah. I couldn’t tell.”
“Don’t misunderstand my silence over the last few years. I’ve had my reasons for staying away.”
“Just like you had your reasons for leaving, I’m sure.” I don’t try to hide the disdain in my voice.
