Bridget wanted to be appalled—she really did. But her wide eyes dilated and nipples pebbled telling me she really liked my dirty talk even if she didn’t think she was supposed to. “Simon—we can’t do any of that.”
“And why not?”
“Let me ask you something serious for a minute?”
“I was being serious, but okay.”
“Are you still planning on moving out?”
My heart sank. I never really wanted to move out to begin with. “Do you want me to move out?”
I saw the sadness in her face. “Do you think we can live together and keep our hands off of each other?”
Honesty isn’t always the best policy. I’d learned that in third grade when Alison Eggert asked me if she looked plump in the dress she was wearing. Apparently, yes was unacceptable even if the stripes made her look a bit portly. She never spoke to me again. I put on my best serious face and responded to Bridget adamantly with a lie. “Yes, I do.”
Bridget’s brows jumped. “Yes? You do?”
“If that’s what you need from me, yes.”
She sighed. “God, Simon, why do we have to be in such different places in life and want such different things out of it when we obviously enjoy each other so much?”
I fucking hated that she was right. “I don’t know, Bridget. But it seems a little cruel, doesn’t it? You haven’t had sex in two years, and I haven’t wanted to be around a woman after sex in…I don’t know…almost my entire adult life. Isn’t there a way for us to live in the moment and enjoy what we have for just a little while longer?”
She looked back and forth between my eyes. “Where were you planning on moving?”
“I was going to stay with Calliope and Nigel for a few weeks while I found myself a new flat.”
“Well, how about this. Why don’t you do that? Go stay with Calliope for a week or two. But don’t get a new place just yet. Let’s keep some distance between us and see if we can be adults about it. Maybe our libidos will cool off, and we’ll be able to resume cohabitating after a little while.”
I fucking hated the thought of leaving her, even if she was right that it needed to happen. “If that’s what you want, okay, I’ll go stay with Calliope for a while. But I’d like to ask two things from you, first.”
“What’s that?”
“One. I’d like to amend our original agreement to one day of sex, twenty-four full hours, rather than one act. Because I want you in my bed tonight, and I plan to fuck you several more times.”
She swallowed. “Okay. We can do that. What’s the other condition?”
“I want you to agree to my definition of sexual relations. Because on the off-chance you beg me to make you come, I want to be clear on the methods I’m permitted to use.”
Bridget laughed. “You’ve got a deal. But you should know, I’ve never begged anyone to make me come in my entire life. So no matter how handsome, well endowed, and witty you are, I doubt that will be happening, Simon.”
I smiled from ear to ear—loving hearing that she’d never begged a man. But even more so, I couldn’t wait to be the first for her.
My good mood had plummeted the first night I slept at Calliope’s. I wanted to be back at home with Bridget in the worst way.
Back at home with Bridget.
What the fuck?
It wasn’t my home. My home was in England.
Frustrated, I punched my pillow a few times to fluff it up and laid back down, staring at the ceiling in the dark. For the most part, I lived a very simple life. I didn’t need fancy cars or money. I worked hard, yet didn’t need to be the chief. But every once in a blue moon, something came along and lit a fire under my ass. My desires were limited, but when they struck—they were consuming.
There were no two ways about it, I desired Bridget Valentine.
I shouldn’t.
We shouldn’t.
But the woman was addicting.
At four-thirty in the morning, I still hadn’t slept a wink, so I decided to go into the hospital early. Maybe the change of scenery would help, and I could catch some shuteye in the residents’ lounge.
I was surprised to find Calliope in the kitchen standing in front of the coffeemaker.
“Does it brew faster when you stare at it?”
Calliope jumped. She turned clutching her chest. “You scared the fuck out of me, Simon.”
“Sorry. I thought you heard me walk into the room.”
“It’s four-thirty in the morning, and I haven’t had my coffee yet. My hearing is still sleeping.”
“Why are you up so early?”
“This is what time I get up every day. I teach a 6AM, private, sunrise yoga class over on Gooseberry Beach.”