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"You’ll see, in retrospect, this was the right thing to do."
"What was?" She frowns up at me.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ears, then reach down and retrieve her clothes. "You need to get dressed."
She looks at me for a second longer, before reaching for the tissues in the car. She wipes herself then pulls on her clothes. I tuck myself back in, zip myself up. When I glance up, she’s looking at me with parted lips. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing slightly erratic.
"Fucking hell, Rabbit, don’t look at me like that." I pull her into my side. When she snuggles in, I dip my chin and kiss the top of her head.
She pushes her nose into my armpit and breathes deeply.
I laugh. "You sure you want to do that?"
"You always smell delicious."
"Yeah?" I chuckle.
"Like a dark chocolate drink laced with coffee," she replies with a nod.
“Right now, I smell like a brewery.”
“The whiskey does add a certain appeal; it goes right to my head.”
“That’s my proximity making you dizzy, baby.”
She scoffs, “I forget how big your ego is.”
I open my mouth, and she holds up a hand. “Nope, no cheap shots about what else is big.”
“You said it.” I grin down at her.
She peers up at me and a small smile curves her lips. We look at each other for a few seconds until the car pulls to a stop. She’s the first to break the connection. When she glances out the window at the jet parked on the tarmac, she looks confused.
"Are we at your private jet?" When I don’t reply, she turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "Where are we going?"
"We'renot going anywhere."
Her shoulders slump, and she looks away. "You’re leaving?"
"I had less than forty hours off. I need to get back."
She swallows. "How long is the shoot going to be for?"
"Eight months."
She gapes at me. "Did you say eight months?"
I nod.
"And when were you going to tell me that?"
She sees the guilty expression on my face. Not that I try to hide it, to be honest. I could have, if I’d wanted to, but a part of me wants her to see I'm doing it on purpose. This is the only way for her to realize the kind of man I am. She'll never come first. And what a load of bull that is.She is first. She deserves better; it’s why I’m doing my best to push her away. If only she’d understand that.
Her face falls. She seems stricken for a few seconds, then recovers enough to swipe out her arm. I’m anticipating it, so I grab her wrist and stop her palm from connecting with my face. I twist it behind her back and haul her close enough that I can make out the specks of gold in her eyes. "It’s my prerogative what I share and don’t share with you about my life, do you understand?"
"Fuck you."
"Not for a long time." I release her, then shove open the door. My heart hurts; there’s a band around my ribcage getting tighter by the second. I slam the door shut behind me.
