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“I don’t want to talk about the past,” he said. “You’re here. I’m here. Let’s talk about that.”
She drew in an unsteady breath. “Okay.”
After months of trying to control the media—impossible—and monitoring his every facial reaction and posting carefully online—annoying—he was more than ready to let the past go. Easier to do when it came to Mags or Carla. Letting go of Presley was proving harder.
“You should stay a while longer.” He blurted out what he’d been thinking for most of the evening.
“S-stay?”
“Yeah. Another week, at least.”
He’d told himself he was blowing off steam with her, that they’d have their fill and move on. But they’d had sex multiple times, and he was as steam-filled as a hot kettle. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible to have his fill of her.
He wasn’t through with her yet, and he hoped like hell she wasn’t through with him. Once she went home to Florida, he knew that would be it. She’d go back to her life and he would go back to his. She had her sights set on traveling. He was destined for more awards. But he wasn’t ready to release her from his hold. Not just yet.
He wished he could read her mind. He sure as hell couldn’t read her expression.
“You’re not done writing the article,” he said, figuring that was true. “Isn’t there more you need from me?”
Her smile was slight, but it gave him hope.
“I’ll keep bringing you coffee in the morning,” he said into her hair. She reinvigorated him, made him feel new. Fresh ideas had been bouncing around in his head since she’d climbed into bed with him. “You’re inspiring.”
She sat up on an elbow and this time he read her doubtful expression clearly.
“I’m not feeding you a line,” he argued with the accusation in her eyes. “Come back here.”
She muttered something about him being “impossible” but snuggled into him again, this time lying on her side and draping her arm over his chest.
“I haven’t felt this alive in a long time,” He rested his chin on the top of her head. The smoke above had cleared, revealing a sea of twinkling stars. “You make me better, Pres. At everything.”
But no matter how much she meant to him, he had to have limits with her. How could he possibly ask her to trust him after he’d demolished her trust so thoroughly? After he had proven his success came first, regardless of what she’d meant to him.
“I’m sure Delilah would give me a week’s extension to close some of the gaps in my article,” she said.
“And you can write about the new song I’m recording next week.”
“A new song?” He heard the excitement in her voice. He loved how much she loved his music. It was the highest honor. “Which one?”
“One you haven’t heard.” He kissed the top of her head. “But you will. I mean, if you stay.”
He felt her smile on his bare chest. “You’re such a tease.”
“Not teasing.” If anyone was teasing, she was teasing him. She was giving him everything he wanted that he couldn’t keep. Everything he shouldn’t have left behind and couldn’t get back.
Those were sad words, cut him right to the core. But they were also honest. He mentally noted to add them to his new song. No one knew better than him that heartbreak was a big seller.
“If you’re sure?” She was back to tracing circles on his chest again—his favorite sensation. Her fingers, his bare chest, her soft exhalations tickling his skin.
Another boat motored by as a shooting star streaked across the sky.
“Yeah, Pres. I’m sure.”
