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It would have been so easy to keep going. To yank off her panties and fuck her until she screamed my name. To not think beyond tonight, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t put myself out there again, only to get burned by her.
“Le,” I panted. “Tell me you want this… want me.”
She froze. “I want you, I do, it’s just…” Her hesitation said it all.
Pressing a kiss to her temple, I moved her bra back into place, and lifted her from me, placing her on the seat next to me before tucking myself into my joggers. “Talk to me, Le. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
She lifted her beer from the table, taking a drink with her now swollen lips before she raised her arousal-filled eyes to look at me. “Sorry, that got heated quickly.” Her cheeks flushed. “I like you Fox, I do, but what I want… it’s not normal.”
I pulled the band from my wet hair, shaking it out before tying it back up into a messy bun again. “Le, I shared you with my best friend. What about that isnormal? I just need you to be honest with me about what you want.”
She chewed on her bottom for a second. “I still don’t understand it myself. I need some time. Can you give me some time? Let me work it out in my own head and then I can explain. It’s a lot. What I think I want, it’s a lot.”
Cupping her cheek, I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m going to stop. Give you some proper space without me texting you all the time.” She let out what sounded like a sad whimper. “I need you to be sure about what you want and that you see me as part of it. I need you to choose me, Le. I need to choose us.”
“But what if I want something more?”
I sat back and smiled. “I like sharing. I’m happy to share you, beautiful.”
Her eyes flashed with something that looked like desire, but she shook it off. “I don’t think we want the same thing,” she whispered.
“You don’t know unless you tell me, but until you’re ready to talk, and no matter how much I want to fuck you right now, I can’t do this again until you can be honest with me. It hurts, Le. Months of you ignoring me hurt.”
Her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Fox. I never meant to hurt you.”
I nodded because what else could I say?
She stood. “I’m going to go. Once I work out how to explain, then I’ll call you.”
“So, your phone does work, then? I was starting to get worried it was broken.” I winked.
A small smile spread across her lips, and she pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before she turned and left.
Chapter 2
Lea - 2 months later
Icheckedmyphoneagain, hoping I might have got agood morningor anI love you text. I knew it was crazy because I’d been the one to push him away, but I missed my daily messages from Fox. Who was I kidding? I missed Fox.
I sighed, throwing it onto my bed while I got ready for work. I ran a brush through my hair, pulling it up into a high ponytail, making sure my make up was on point and my black sleeveless jumpsuit was crease free, before slipping on myJimmy Choosand my glasses before I headed downstairs for my second coffee of the day.
Today was the Mayor of London’s lunch to celebrate him winning the election. I’d been planning it for months. There were over three hundred people attending and I needed to deal with the press, caterers, staff, and any other problems that popped up during the day, and I needed a clear head to do it.
Checking my emails, I replied to a couple, sent my staff a reminder about my plans for the day in case they needed to get in touch, and then closed my laptop, storing it in my handbag, before stepping outside into the car waiting to take me to the event.
I’d been a party planner since I finished college. I’d started small; kid’s parties, office events, weddings, but about three years ago, I met a certain A-list celeb while waiting for my orthodontist appointment. She was in tears because the venue for her five-year-old daughter’s party had just canceled with less than forty-eight hours’ notice. While she was having her root canal, I rearranged the entire thing, sent out new invites, and booked a better entertainer.
By the end of that week, my diary was filled with more A-list parties than I could handle by myself. Within six months, I’d gone from a small-time party planner, working from her spare room in a shitty apartment, to employing six staff in a city center office.
And now, my right-hand man, Freddie, was waiting outside the venue with a large latte, extra hot. Wearing a pale blue suit, his black hair was styled perfectly, and he offered me his award-winning smile.
“Good morning, Queen Bee.”
“Morning, Freddie. How are we doing?”
“Caterers are on their way, tables are set up and are being dressed as we speak, PA system is up and running, security is sorted and the mayor’s wife is mid-breakdown because she doesn’t like her dress.”
“Call our favorite dress shop with her size and get them to send some options over. She’ll need shoes as well. Let me taste the food before anyone else touches it. I will check the tables myself as we walk through and if no one’s done a sound check on the stage mic then get one done,” I instructed as we walked through the staff entrance via the kitchen to the ballroom where we were staging the event.
