Page 48 of Dirty Love

I don’t say anything, but it doesn’t take him long to realize I’m awake and looking at him. He glances over. “You’re awake.”

“So are you.”

“Did I wake you? I don’t sleep much.”

“No, it’s fine.” I stretch my arms above my head, then push myself up to a sitting position. “I’m kind of hungry?”

He points to the mini-fridge. “I went out and got some Japanese soba noodles, a green salad, grilled chicken, and some sticky dessert balls that smell like cherry blossoms.”

I crawl out of bed and check out the food. He bought enough to feed a small army. I assemble a plate for myself. “Do you want me to dish you up some as well?”

He waves his hand. “I’ll get some in a little bit, if that’s okay. I’m in the middle of something.”

So I sit cross-legged on the bed, naked, and eat while I watch him. He doesn’t seem distracted by the intense observation, either.

When I finish my midnight dinner, I go to the bathroom to wash up. There’s a new toothbrush next to the sink and a bottle of the Icelandic skin cream that I use, too. I could have just brought my stuff down from upstairs, or for that matter invited him to share my room with me, but there’s something about this that I get the sense Wilson needs. Like he’s providing for me.

I like it.

Nobody has ever really done that before. I have people on my payroll who do it because I compensate them extraordinarily well. But I need to tell them what I want, how I like things. Without a single prompt, Wilson got food that he knew I’d enjoy,

He’s still at the computer when I come out of the bathroom. I move to his side, and he holds out his arm, pulling me into his lap. He’s wearing boxer briefs and a fitted t-shirt that I want to strip off of him, but he’s working, so I resist the temptation to distract him with sex.

For now.

I peek at the screen. “Wow, there’s a lot going on in the middle of the night.”

He points at one corner, where three columns of what look like chatrooms are scrolling. “It’s not the middle of the night in Russia.” Then he points to a bigger black square in the middle. “And when the rest of America is sleeping is a good time for me to go peeking inside their systems.”

“That’s…”

“Creepy?” I can feel him smiling.

“Intense.” It really doesn’t feel creepy. I can feel his heartbeat where my arm is wrapped around his chest, and it’s slow and steady, although from the hints he’s given me, I think that’s more due to training than anything else. But it’s not creepy becauseheisn’t. I twist my head toward him so I can see his face. “Thank you for finding my face cream. That was really sweet.”

He gives me a half-smirk. “Easy to notice what you like when I’m spying on you.”

“You’d be surprised how many people I spend every day with who don’t notice things like that.”

“That’s a real shame. But I’m not surprised.” His mouth tightens as his eyes flick back to the screen. “People prove just how selfish they are every single day.”

I laugh weakly. “I thought that was just Hollywood.”

He shakes his head absently. “You have no idea.” Then he huffs out a breath and kisses my head. “And I don’t want you to, either. I think I want some of that food now. And then we can find a movie or something to watch and make out like teenagers.”

—twenty-two—

Tabitha

Los Angeles

October

“Over here, Tabitha!”

“Who are you wearing?”

“Show us some thigh!”

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