“Are we really doing this here?” I whispered. The bed was too small, the room too hot and too quiet—and my dad was just two doors down. It was stupid and inconvenient and I couldn’t remember wanting something more.
I switched on the small lamp so I could see him better. His lips were swollen, his hair a mess, and his grin was totally ridiculous when he said, “I fucking love you, you filthy fucking girl. You want me to watch?”
“Yeah.”
“Touch yourself,” he whispered.
I did, way too slowly to get me anywhere, but the perfect speed to make his eyes grow to the size of saucers before he stretched to kiss me. He mumbled something against my lips, his tongue moving lazily against mine. He was all soft noises and hands everywhere, his cock sliding over my clit before finally pressing slowly into me.
It was a blur then, the feeling of being so full, of warm breath and warmer skin. Bennett sucked on my nipple, teeth dragging while I slid over him. I was so lost to everything else that I didn’t even notice the familiar squeak of the hinge on my bedroom door.
“Oh for the love of Pete!” my dad yelled, and suddenly it was legs and arms and blankets being tossed everywhere. I heard the distant flailing of my father as he rushed back down the hall, muttering about his little girl and sex in his house and telltale signs of a heart attack.
Let’s just say that neither Bennett nor I had ever been so grateful for anything as we were for the NDSU football player who needed an emergency root canal the next morning and whose coach, an old friend of my father’s, insisted that only Dad could handle it. Dad was at the office, waiting on their arrival from Fargo before the sun was even up.
No, vacations never really seemed to work out for us.
Guilt ate away at me the rest of the morning. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to tell Bennett it was impossible. Here he was, trying to be flexible, and I was the one telling him to consider work. What the hell was wrong with me? I tried to catch him between meetings. I tried to meet up with him for lunch. The closest I got was passing him in the hall, a group of executives babbling around him like fanboys around a celebrity.
“I need to talk to you,” I mouthed.
“Bat signal?” I think he said back.
I shook my head. “Dinner?”
He nodded, blew me a kiss behind everyone’s back, and was off, herded down the hall and into the elevator.
“So how are things?”
Sara shrugged, dragging another fry through ketchup before popping it into her mouth, but definitely not looking at me. “Things are fine.”
I glared at her. Things were always fine with Sara.
“I’m serious!” she insisted, leaning back in her chair. “There’s so much noise about it all. I’m just trying to figure out what is truth, and what isn’t.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said.
“I’ve known him for so long it’s just hard to reconcile it all. But, honestly, I’m doing fine.”
“Sara, pardon the intrusion, because I suppose technically it’s none of my business, but that is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“What?”
“You heard me! This thing with Andy is a huge deal! Bennett wants us to go to France and besides the obvious twelve hundred fifty-four reasons why I shouldn’t go, near the top of that list is you!”
“What?” she repeated, though a bit louder this time. “Bennett wants you to go to France! Oh my God that’s amazing! And wait, what do you mean ‘me’?”
“Yeah, he wants us to have some time away to reconnect before the craziness of New York is upon us all,” I said, before balling up my napkin and throwing it at her. “And I hesitate to leave for three weeks because I’m worried about you!”
Sara laughed, standing to walk around the table and hug me. “That is the sweetest, most idiotic thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you, Chloe.”
“But I’m moving,” I added, squeezing her tightly. “These were going to be our last three weeks together.”
Sara took the seat next to me. “I’m a big girl, and there are planes. I love—love—that you wanted to stay here and take care of me. But . . . I think Bennett might be right,” she said, wincing a little. “You guys need this, and if you can make it work, well, you should throw some skimpy clothes in a bag and drag that man to France.”
I laughed, leaning on her shoulder. “God, it would complicate things so much. I’d have to find someone to do interviews, sit in on all my meetings—”
“But would it be worth it?”
I smiled, remembering how excited Bennett had been when he’d told me about the trip, and how his face had fallen when I hadn’t shared his enthusiasm. “Yeah, it would.”
SIX
I rolled over, grabbing my phone from the bedside table and muting the alarm with a swipe of my thumb. I was exhausted, having fallen asleep only two hours before. I’d worked until almost two and then tried to slip into bed without waking Chloe, but she’d stirred and climbed on top of me before I could say anything.