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I giggle. “Does it bother you?”
“No.”
“It does.”
“I just don’t understand why you would tell an interior designer that you want friends with benefits.”
“Because I do, Henley.”
“I’ll buy you a vibrator.”
“Fine.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know how to make it any clearer: I need a man to take care of my needs. Nothing more and nothing less. You are reading into it too much.”
His dark eyes drop to my lips, and then, as if remembering where he is, he turns back to face the doors; his face is solemn. “When are you seeing him again?”
“Who?”
“The designer,” he spits.
“Oh my god, will you drop it?” I whisper angrily.
We get to our floor, and we walk down the wide and fancy corridor. He passes me a key. “Six o’clock.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll come and get you.”
“Okay.”
We stare at each other; an unspoken feeling runs between us. He’s battling with jealousy and wants to explode, and I have to say I’m totally into it.
“See you at six.”
He steps forward, forcing me to step back. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”
“Shame.”
I do love it when he’s naughty.
I turn to my door. “Goodbye, Henley.”
“See you at six.”
“Holy fuck,” Chloe whispers as she looks at my reflection over FaceTime. “This poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance tonight.”
I giggle. “That is the plan.”
Knock, knock sounds at the door. “I’ve got to go—he’s here.”
“Text me updates. Love you.”
“Bye.” I take one last look at myself: deep-red corset, plunging neckline, and a flowing skirt. I smile, happy with what I see. This dress was worth every penny.
I open the door in a rush, and there he stands. His messy dark hair and black dinner suit, and a smile that could blow up the world.
“Hi,” he breathes. He steps forward, taking me into his arms.
