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And then he ruins it. “We really need to talk.”
I grab at his thick thighs, rest my head on his belly. He smells of sweat, sex, and his woodsy perfume that probably costs more than my monthly wage. “Do we?” If we talk, I’ll have to feel things I don’t want to. Uncertainty will knit my thoughts together. Guilt will poke holes in my stomach. “Can’t we just…” I kiss around his belly button, smoothing my palms around to his arse. “Carry on where we left off?”
His fingers comb through my hair, pushing my head back, forcing me to look at him. “Take a bath with me?”
Those eyes, so deep and blue, arresting me with just a glance. I wonder if he has any idea how much power that stare holds.
I answer with a smile.
The bathroom isn’t as big as I expected. When I think of multi-million-pound houses, I envisage humungous mansions where every room is larger than my entire flat. Then again, this is London, and this house isn’t exactly small.
I’m nestled between Laurence’s legs, my back against his chest, in an oval bath encased in a marble surround. His hands reach over my shoulders, washing my chest, and I can’t take my eyes off them as he lathers my skin. They’re large, his hands. Long fingers. Wide palms. Seeing them, these masculine hands, glide over my nipples, still fills me with a sense of peculiarity. It feels almost forbidden. Causes my breath to hitch.
And then he kisses the top of my head, and I remember that this is okay. I’m allowed to enjoy this. Enjoy him.
No punishment is coming.
Except, perhaps, from the warehouse…which is where I’m supposed to be right now. I left Becca’s in such a hurry, mind scrambled, that I forgot to call in ‘sick’. I plan to do it later. Hope, but doubt, they’ll be understanding. The staff turnover rate is phenomenal. They hire fast and cheaply, and most people jump before they’re pushed. It wouldn’t surprise me if my replacement has already signed their contract. And that’s a problem. A real-life problem. Something I forget too easily when I’m with Laurence.
He feels like too much of a fantasy.
It’s time. Laurence is right. We do need to talk.
“Where do we go from here?” I say, rubbing along the damp and warm skin of his forearm. “Realistically, how does this work? Can this work?”
His body shifts, releasing foamy waves into the water that lap over my stomach. He tilts his head until he can see my face, training those big blues on my eyes. “Firstly, you don’t ever do that to me again. I mean it, William. If you get scared, you panic, you feel like there’s no solution, whatever problem you’re facing…you include me. You don’t just cut me off. I can’t do that again. I need you to remember that I’m here for all of you, including your weaknesses.”
“I won’t,” I say, meaning it with every thread of who I am. I don’t think I could survive these last few weeks again, either. “I promise.”
“Promise accepted,” he says, kissing the side of my forehead. “Then…we stay together. We have lots of sex. We laugh. We travel. We grow old.”
Sounds perfect. Too perfect. A perfect solution for an imperfect world. “And our jobs? The fact you’re famous, in case you forgot. My family.”
Laurence puckers his lips, nods while he thinks on that. “So, we stay together. Have lots of sex. We go to work. We laugh. We have lots of sex. You do family stuff. We travel. We have lots of sex. I make a couple of movies. We grow old.”
My laughter makes the water ripple around our thighs. “I’m being serious. They’re big things I mentioned. I need to be close by for my family, Laurence.”
“So, we’ll buy a house up north.”
Whoa. “No, wait, I didn’t…I mean…we can’t live together.” The idea is absurd. It’s far too soon. Isn’t it? On paper, absolutely. In real life, in our life, I have no idea.
“Okay. Well, I’ll buy a house up north that you can stay over at all the time until eventually you realise it’s pointless going home for clean clothes, so you just start washing them there.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m eccentric. There’s a difference. Comes with the job description, I believe.”
“I’ve no interest in your money. Your big houses or your swanky lifestyle. I don’t need you to provide for me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just continue providing for myself and you can share. I’m nice like that.”
I want to slap him. I want to laugh. I want to kiss him.
I move onto the next issue. “You’re not out yet. Publicly, I mean.”
“I’m not in, either,” he retorts. “What’s your point?”
“So, it won’t bother you if people find out about us?”
“Will it bother you? I’ve told you before, William, I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m definitely not ashamed of you.”
