“I just wish you were here is all.”
“I wish I was there, too. Or that you were here. Or that we were somewhere together. Anywhere.”
“Careful, you’re turning into a romantic.”
“Nu-uh. I just don’t bullshit and that’s how it is.”
“I know,” she said.
“You know?”
“I do. I feel it. The same. I just . . .”
“What? You’ve been here before and you’ve been hurt before?”
“God no. No. Never. I’ve never been here before. Not like this. I think maybe that’s it. It’s because this is different.” Her voice was quieter as she spoke. As if she almost didn’t want to utter the words. “I’d never recover.”
Her admission reassured me a little. It didn’t seem to be lack of feeling that was creating the doubt—if what she was saying was the truth.
“You’ll never have to.”
“I thought you didn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“That’s right.”
“Ethan.”
“I mean it. It’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.” But she was right. I couldn’t control it. She had her part to play as I did, and perhaps we’d need some good luck in there somewhere as well.
“You’re going to have to be sure enough for the both of us sometimes.” Her voice dipped a little, thickened with something.
“I can do that,” I assured her.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”
“But I wish I could have, you know.”
Fuck she was adorable—she still couldn’t say that she wanted to make me come.
“Oh you will. And as you know, I don’t make promises I don’t keep.”
She laughed again and I started to relax. But only slightly. I checked my watch. Fuck, it was coming up to my conference call. I wanted to stay on the phone to her. All night. Especially now. I didn’t want to have to hang up on her while the uncertainties were still so close to the surface. I wanted to soothe her for just a few minutes longer.
“It’s late. I should sleep. And you have to work. Tomorrow will be better,” she said.
Tomorrow would be better. I would make sure of it.
We hung up a few minutes past eight and I quickly dialed into the call while powering up my laptop. I’d planned to send her various gifts throughout our time apart. I wanted to make her smile, and make her realize how I was thinking of her all the time, even if I wasn’t with her. When I’d bought her the scarves, I’d enjoyed real pleasure from thinking what she might like. I loved it when I got it right and her eyes lit up as she unwrapped the one I’d chosen to go with her hair, or that would look so beautiful against her skin or that would go with the new suit she bought. It was an extension of the sex between us. I got pleasure from giving her pleasure. It was a revelation to me. I hadn’t realized I could be happy because someone else was happy. I wondered if Andrew felt like this about Mandy, or if James felt this way about Jessica.
I’d tried to stay awake so I could speak to her before she was properly awake. I loved the sound of her drowsy, half-awake voice. I couldn’t get enough of it.
At some point I must have fallen asleep because I woke to horns, my laptop and papers still spread across my bed. I was at least sleeping back in the master bedroom now. Feeling her around me, seeing her in my apartment was exactly what I wanted. It was tortuous, but it was necessary. When I left for London I did everything to avoid memories of her in my apartment. Now it was exactly the opposite.
I checked my phone. She’d be at work. I could get a head start on my day, maybe even hit the gym. I started to check my messages and found several texts from Anna. More than several. Almost a dozen. Shit, I hoped something wasn’t wrong. I opened them. As the realization of what I was seeing hit me, a heat crossed my body and I was aware of the blood in my veins.
Pictures. Lots of pictures. Close up.
I scrolled through them—her lips, slightly parted, just as they were when she came. The juncture of her upper thigh, her magnificent tits pushed together, with a hint of her hand. The curve of her ass. Her fingers, where I wanted mine.
Jesus, I was hard. I wanted her with me, but this was the next best thing. She was beautiful. That skin, what those fingers could do to me, what that ass could do for me.
She answered on the first ring. I grinned. She’d been expecting my call.
“You’re up early.”
“And you’re trying to kill me.”
“That wasn’t the intention. Just a little reminder of what you’ve got back in London—and of who is visiting you in three weeks.”