Page 114 of The Best Men
“Of course.” My voice is gravel.
“But first, let’s get this over with,” he says, coming forward to loop the bow tie around my neck. His hands on me, even through clothes, make my skin sing. It feels wrong to enjoy his touch this much, but still, I savor it as he flips up my collar and adjusts the position of the silk. “God,” he rumbles from inches away, and this moment is about as perfect as one could be. “Posh fuckers look good after a few days in the sun. The view from where I’m standing is top notch.”
Mark smiles, but his eyes dart up to check mine for a reaction. He seems nervous. Mark is hardly ever nervous. He never was in the bedroom. He hardly was out of it either, except when he was trying to sort me out. And all of a sudden, I have a pretty good idea of what he wants to talk about.
“Mark?” My bones are heavy as I say his name.
“Yeah?” His knuckles graze my jaw as he works. I lean toward him, craving his nearness. And the scent of his crisp aftershave.
And more hours like this, alone with him.
Except that’s not fair.
“I think we have?”
“I’m moving to Paris,” I cut in, my voice a scrape.
His fingers freeze on the bowtie. “What?”
“The texts from Lucy. It was about this job I’ve been after. It’s . . . overseas. It’s in France. I’m moving there,” I say, the words spilling out in a messy pile-up.
And Mark’s eyes widen.
He gulps in air.
His gaze is pained.
Then, in the span of a heartbeat, his expression goes blank.
Stony.
Everything is erased.
“That’s . . . great,” he says, and the transformation is so fast, I swear I imagined that hurt look from seconds ago.
“I leave in five days,” I add.
He’s pure cool now as he nods like he’s agreeing to a business deal. “Congrats, man,” he says.
Man.
NotSt. James.
Notyou posh fucker.
And not even my first name.
The distance between us is miles now, or maybe it’s just that way for me. No clue anymore what Mark?the expert poker player?is thinking.
I can’t read him at all.
“It all happened quickly,” I say. “I didn’t even know it was for a year. I thought it was going to be for several weeks. But FLI wants a photog who knows the sport and can craft a new image for the organization. And is free to travel around Europe. That’s me.”
And I’m not even sure why I’m justifying my choice.
It’s my life. This is a huge opportunity?one I pursued. J’adore Paris. I have a ton of friends from boarding school there. Felicity, Oscar, and others.
I’m not going to toss it away just because I want more days and nights with Mark Banks.
