Page 65 of An American in London

“Ben, I have to leave.”

“Don’t,” he says, as he brings my leg back to rest on his thigh, opening me wide.

“Stay.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder and his hardness nudges my entrance. My brain is frazzled.

“For just a few minutes.”

He chuckles into my neck. “You’re never going to want to leave when I’m done with you.”

He’s probably right. I’m not sure anything—not even Daniel De Luca—could make me want to leave Ben’s bed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Melanie has never been as into Daniel De Luca as me, but she insists on staying up late in New York while I loiter outside the Soho Hotel waiting for him to emerge. It’s not even light yet, but I finally managed to escape Ben’s persuasive techniques for getting me to stay with him. I better get to see Daniel De Luca this morning. I’ve given up a lot.

Melanie didn’t want me to do it on my own. But honestly, if we hadn’t arranged this call, I probably wouldn’t be here. Every part of me aches, and not because Ben and I were up most of the night, but because I’m not in his bed now. Every time I blink, I feel his teeth on my neck, his fingers on my skin, his tongue ... everywhere.

“Hold me straight!” Melanie squawks from the video call, pulling me back to the moment.

“Whoops, sorry. There’s nothing much to see.”

Security has set up a small barricade, but I’m the only one here. And it’s pouring rain.

“It’s no wonder you’re in love with him. I mean, he’s hot as all holy hell,” she says.

“I don’t think I’m actually in love with him. Back in the day, maybe, but I was a teenager. I just like his movies, and I’ve enjoyed visiting the locations; it all brings back memories of my mom.”

“I don’t mean you’re in love with Daniel De Luca,” Melanie replies. “I’m talking about Ben.”

The rain is coming down harder now. Ten minutes ago, it was just drizzling. Now the rain is falling in full-on sheets. The sound against my rickety tourist umbrella must have made me mishear. She can’t have just said I’m in love with Ben. “Say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

Melanie laughs. “I said, I’m not surprised you’re in love with Ben. He’s hot. And he’s obviously a romantic. The flowers? That date? He bought a goddamn restaurant for you, for crying out loud. He’s got it bad too.”

She doesn’t even know about the sex. This morning it feels like all the cells in my body have been rearranged and I’m biologically different now. But that’s not love.

I roll my eyes, but she can’t see because I have the phone screen pointing toward the hotel doors. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Maybe she needs an explanation of why I’m not more upset about Jed. The more time that goes by, the more I think I was over Jed before he ended things between us. Melanie can believe it’s because of Ben if she wants. “I’ve known Ben a little over two weeks. I’m not in love with him.” I can’t mention the sex or she’ll definitely tell me it’s love. Because it wasn’t just sex. It was something more than that.

“Two weeks is long enough to fall in love,” she says.

We fall silent as the hotel door opens revealing two women dressed in puffer jackets, neither of whom are Daniel De Luca.

“Love happens at first sight, remember,” Melanie continues. “When you compare that with how long you’ve known Ben, two weeks to fall in love with him is actually a very long time. You’ve spent a lot of time together.”

“Lusthappens at first sight.” The lust fairy definitely waved her magic wand at me when I first saw Ben. What isn’t to like? He’s tall, dark, and handsome. But he looked like he wanted to murder me. I hadn’t fallen in love with him that afternoon in Green Park. There was no way. And I’m still not in love with him. That’s completely impossible.Even if he did things to me last night that make me wonder if he should carry a special license for his skills. “Attraction. Not love. That takes ...”

“How long? A month?” Melanie asks. “Do you have to pass a test? Maybe if you can stand each other for two years, then you can be deemed to be in love?”

I fall silent again and Melanie copies me. I hold up the phone as someone else comes out of the hotel. It’s five a.m. Why on earth are people coming out of their hotel so early? If they’re on vacation, shouldn’t they be enjoying the comfort of theirmade by someone elsebed? If they’re on business, what kind of company needs you up so early?

This time it’s a man, but it’s not Daniel De Luca. It’s a balding guy in his sixties.

“Maybe he checked out,” I say.

“Or perhaps his call time is later today,” Melanie counters.

“I’m the only person waiting. That should tell me something. I might head back to my hotel and nap.”

“Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” Melanie asks.

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