Page 15 of No Strings Attached
The question hangs in the air, and I instantly regret it. His laughter fades.
“Sorry,” I blurt out. “You don’t have to?—”
“It’s okay,” Henson interrupts. He sets his glass down on the table and shifts closer to me. Then, he reaches out, grabbing my legs and pulling them over his lap.
I gasp softly, heart racing as his hands move to my calves,kneading the muscles. His touch is firm yet soothing, and I can’t stop the sigh that escapes my lips.
“You’re tense,” he murmurs, his hands moving down to my feet, rubbing slow circles into the arches.
I’m acutely aware of how intimate this is, how comfortable we’ve become in such a short amount of time. It feels dangerous, like a line is being crossed, but I can’t bring myself to stop it. Instead, I lean back against the cushions, letting the tension in my body melt away.
It won’t last,I remind myself. Just one night. Tomorrow, we’ll go back to being strangers.
Henson’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “To answer your question. I’m single because, as cliché as it sounds, I can’t find anyone who’s interested in me forme. It’s always about the money, the lifestyle, the name. Not... me.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he continues. “My ex, Celia, used me for all of that, and the fame that came with it. She wanted to get engaged, but my gut told me something wasn’t right. When I told her I wasn’t ready, she flipped and broke up with me, saying she didn’t want to wait around. A few weeks later, she was engaged to some tech mogul.”
I watch his face, the pain evident even though he tries to hide it.
“It happened seven months ago,” Henson adds after a pause. “And keeping it quiet was work in itself. I didn’t want it all over Page Six or some trashy headline. I was embarrassed, if I’m being honest. Ashamed I didn’t see it coming.”
“Did you love her?” I nervously twist my fingers. “Do you… still?”
“I thought I did back then,” he admits. “Though, looking back, I think I was more in love with the idea of her than the reality.”
My heart aches for him. “That’s awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He shrugs, though his expression is anything but indifferent. “It made me cautious. Careful about who I let in. Maybe too careful.”
I reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “Well, I think you’re worth knowing, Henson. Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve a second of your time.”
I don’t know why I’m being so open with him, but the way he’s letting his guard down, showing me pieces of himself that clearly aren’t meant for just anyone, is disarming. And if I’m being honest, it’s a little bit of a turn-on. After coming out of a relationship where everything felt robotic and calculated, his honesty is like oxygen.
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the air between us becomes heavy again.
Henson’s gaze drops to my lips, lingering there as if he’s silently debating something.
He doesn’t say a word, but the intensity of his stare speaks volumes. Like a heatwave, rushing through me, settling low in my stomach. My tongue darts out to wet my lips—a nervous habit—and his eyes darken in response.
“Henson...” I murmur, my voice softer than intended.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t break eye contact. His hand, still resting on my ankle, slides up, his fingers brushing against my calf. The subtle touch sends a jolt through me, and I press my thighs together, trying to suppress the wave of arousal building inside me.
“What are you thinking about?”
His lips curl into a sultry smile. “You,” he says simply, voice low and gravelly.
My heart skips a beat, and a flush creeps up my neck. “What about me?”
Henson leans in, his hand continuing its slow, deliberate journey up my leg. His fingertips trace invisible patterns on my skin, igniting sparks wherever they touch.
“About how you look when you’re trying not to blush.” His eyes never leave mine. “About how you’ve been trying to keep your distance, even though I know you feel it too.”
I swallow hard, every nerve in my body on high alert. “Feel what?”
His smile deepens, and he finally moves closer, his knee brushing against my thigh. “This pull between us. It’s been there since the moment we met.”
I lean toward him without even realizing it. My wine glass feels heavy in my hand, so I set it down on the table, freeing myself to steady the faint tremor in my fingers.
