Page 65 of Ten Day Affair
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t hear you complaining about that either.”
“I might tomorrow, when I can’t feel my left ass cheek.”
He grins. “Still not worse than your patio lounger.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, rolling onto my elbow to face him. "You were the one on your back. You tell me."
“That lounger had personality. Just saying.”
“It definitely felt more like we’d snap it in two than the stone did.”
“Exactly. Sets the mood. Makes it all the more reckless.”
His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the tangles. “We could always go for round two out there. I'm not opposed.”
I let out a low laugh, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the surface. He watches me with a sincere, thoughtful look.If I weren’t smarter, I might think he was falling for me. But we both know this is just temporary fun.
“I can hear you thinking,” he says, voice low.
My jaw tightens, just for a second.
“Not judging,” he adds, softer now.
"Thinking about how much I enjoyed that."
“Stay here with me. For a minute.”
I let out a breath. The kind that says I might bolt. The kind that admits I won’t.
“I am here,” I say.
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Good. I want you all to myself.”
The sheet slips low on his hips, exposing the hard plane of his stomach and that infuriatingly perfect V-line.
"You've got me. In this moment. That's all that matters, right?"
"I know I’m only here for one more week. Can I have you for that long?"
"I think we can manage that. What happens when you leave?"
Shit. Why did I ask that? I sound like a desperate girl. I know what happens after he leaves. I came into this knowing.
"I didn’t mean to ask that. I know what happens."
“You want to dissect this. But you don’t have to. Not tonight.”
“I don’t do this,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?"
“Sleep with neighbors. Or men I barely know. Or people connected to the hospital.”
He’s quiet for a beat. "There’s always a first time, right?”
That should feel like too much. But it doesn’t. It settlessomewhere deep, a strange kind of comfort I didn’t ask for but might want anyway.
“You always this convincing?” I ask.
