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“Yeah.” What else is there to say? I'm sorry too. “I guess you pay attention, huh?”
“I do.” There is no arrogance in his voice, it’s an odd blend of sincerity and empathy. It is doing weird things to me.
“Your turn, then,” I deflect. “What’s this burning question you have for me?”
“It can wait.”
“So you can catch me off guard with it later? No, no. Let’s get it over with.” I attempt to infuse our chat with a bit of levity.
“It’s about fuckface.” The rest of his muffin disappears inside his mouth, almost as if he had to stuff it to keep himself from saying anything else.
“I figured.” I bring my tea to my mouth — it really is delicious — giving James a chance to swallow.
“Why didn’t you tell Henry you broke up? Don’t give me the ‘you didn’t want to ruin the party’ crap.”
I sigh. Fine. “That is part of the reason.” He crosses his perfect hands over the table, making a show of his patience. “I didn’t want to— Dad and Elizabeth, they make it look easy.”
“It?”
“Yes, it. Love, marriage, the whole fucking thing. I couldn’t bear to disappoint them. They have set a fucking unattainable example! I have the guy. He crosses all the ‘t’s’ and dots all the damn ‘i’s’. He fucking got me a job working at an art gallery in Paris!”
“He what?” One of James’ fists lands on the table.
“Yeah, a pretty damn good one, too. He got a job there and—” I haven’t actually processed any of this. I start hastily clearing the table just to have something to do.
James remains seated. “You broke up with him because he wanted to take you to Paris?”
“Not just that. Things got complicated. I don’t have a good reason.”
“Not wanting to be with someone is a good enough reason, Rose,” he scoffs, talking over me.
“Plus, Dad loves him like the son he nev—” Fuck. I can’t believe I said that. It isn’t even true. It’s something Greg always says, and I just spouted it like a fucking trained parrot. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Archer, that is not at all—”
“Right, yeah.” James gets up from the table, walking towards the stairs without stopping. “I made reservations in the city for lunch, so I’m going to hop in the shower. If you want to come along, you better get ready too.”
“Fuck!” I dump everything in the trash, not bothering to sort anything out. My hands are on my temples. “Great going, Valentine.”
I don’t know what to do, but whatever it is, I can’t do it from here. This is not the kind of thing you should let simmer. I run up the stairs, down the hallway and burst into the bathroom. Steaming water is filling the bathtub. James’ taut torso is naked, he is leaning on the vanity, looking like a perfectly carved statue. His face in the mirror, just as stony.
“I forgot to lock the door?” He mumbles at me.
“Archer, I’m sorry.” I walk towards him, meeting only the reflection of his icy stare. “That was such a stupid thing to say, and not at all true.” I place my hand on the small of his back. Knowing he’s hurting because of something I said is more than I can handle.
“It’s really not.” I duck slightly, squeezing myself into the small space between his body and the edge of the vanity, willingly caging myself between his strong arms. “Archer?” I grab his chin, making him look at me. What I find at the bottom of his eyes disarms me. His trademark self-assurance has been replaced by insecurity. Shit.
A need to offer him comfort, to ease his pain, overwhelms me. I cup his bearded face, and pull him towards me. I softly kiss his top lip, then the bottom one, enjoying the feeling of the plump, soft flesh. I glide my hands down his chest, letting the tips of my fingers feel every ripple of his abs. James’ muscles tense under my touch, but his hands stay put.
“I think it’s time we share this bathroom once and for all, don’t you?” I place my hand over his, pulling him over to the bathtub. I let the water run. We both stand on the fluffy green bath rug. James hasn’t said a word, keeping his jaw tightly clenched. His body is responding to me just fine, egging me on.
I cross my arms in front of my body, reach the fabric and pull his hoodie off. My nipples already peaked for him to feast his eyes on. The grunt he can’t contain emboldens me further. I trace his marked v-line, loving the feel of the muscles and the trail of dark hair leading me right into temptation.
His sweatpants are hanging deliciously low on his hips, the fabric doing nothing to conceal the wonders he’s hiding underneath it. My mouth waters at the thought alone. I untie the waistband and pull down. Fuck. He’s wearing nothing underneath.
I place James’ hands on my hips, lacing his fingers with mine, sliding them downwards until I too am standing completely naked before him. I bend over, turning off the tap. I feel his fingers trace down my back, the curve of my ass, the top of my legs.
The air is heavy, steam mixed with lust whirling around us.
I get in first, taking a seat. Normally, I would hesitate to take the lead. Somehow this feels safe, there is power in being vulnerable with James. I extend my hand towards him, letting my eyes roam across all the hard planes of his body.
