Chapter Fourteen
“Shall I turn it off?”
“Huh?” I brought my attention back to Justin with difficulty. At the other end of the sofa, he’d turned sideward and was currently regarding me with a quizzical expression.
At my clueless expression, he elaborated. “The film.”
Right, we were meant to be watching a film. Some sort of action thing, with lots of explosions, gunfire, and car crashes. “No, I’m watching it.”
“Really? Because, I could have sworn you’ve been miles away for the last ten minutes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Who just died then?”
Someone had died! “The…er…man who was following…the woman.”
He shook his head. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. We can do something else, Dean. We can watch something else, or we can go out. I don’t want you to be bored.”
“I’m not bored.” I forced a smile. “Honest. I want to see what happens…to the man.”
“Which man?”
“The main character, the one whose wife died earlier in the film.”
Justin looked less than convinced, but he did turn his attention back to the screen, so I must have said something right.
I sank lower on the sofa, determined to do a much better job of pretending I was watching.
Truth be told, I’d been deep in thought trying to work out what was going on in our relationship.
We’d seen each other several times over the last few weeks: lunches, dinners, days out.
Whatever we’d done, we’d had a great time.
We’d laughed, we’d joked, the hours had flown by.
There’d been an awful lot of kissing. Very good kisses.
Kisses that had gotten me increasingly hot and bothered.
But that was where the problem started. Every time I’d tried to progress it past the point of kissing, even to heavy petting, he’d back off at such a speed it had left my head spinning, not to mention my balls extremely blue.
I just couldn’t work him out. He obviously liked me.
He’d brought a friend to the restaurant the other night while I was working, claiming it was an excuse to spend more time with me.
There was genuine lust in his eyes when he looked at me.
He kissed just as enthusiastically. He initiated a lot of the kisses. So, what was going on?
Frustrated, I’d tried to broach the subject several times. He’d fobbed me off or changed the subject. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d like to think sex wasn’t that important, but it clearly was. At least to me. It apparently didn’t matter a jot to him.
If I was honest, I’d been hoping that once my relationship with Justin had become sexual, I’d manage to find the willpower to bring Tuesday evenings to an end.
Apparently, me having brown hair and eyes, and being a liar, hadn’t been a deal breaker and the visits were still ongoing.
There I was, having mind-blowing sex with one man, while supposedly having a meaningful relationship with another.
I chewed my fingernail. I was a bad person.
A weak, bad person. A person who probably didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a nice person like Justin.
I lived with the constant fear of Justin finding out about the escorting.
I hadn’t even come clean about the straightforward dates.
That would at least have been a good place to start.
But I was scared I’d find my ass dumped so fast, there’d be nothing I could do about it.
And who’d blame him. I’d fully deserve it.
It might have been different if I’d been honest straight away, but I’d left it too long now.
Georgia had promised she wouldn’t say anything about my past. She was still completely unaware that I was still seeing the mystery man on a Tuesday.
I’d managed to manufacture a string of plausible excuses to explain my absences.
I was lying to her. I was lying to Justin.
All in all, it was a powder keg waiting to explode one way or another. My luck could only hold for so long.
A sigh from the other end of the sofa brought me crashing back to the present. I hadn’t even noticed he’d paused the movie and now I was faced with a concerned-looking Justin—again. “What’s wrong, Dean?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No. Of course not.”
I edged along the sofa toward him, wanting to smooth away the look of worry from the other man’s face. “Sorry. I guess I’m just really bad company tonight. If you want to go, I’ll understand.”
The frown grew even more pronounced. “I don’t. And you’re not bad company. Just a little distracted. I thought it was my bad choice of film. But, if it’s not, if it’s something else, is it Georgia?”
I shook my head. “No. She’s fine. Well, not fine, obviously. She’s still heartbroken. She thought Benedict was ‘the one’ but she’s doing okay, considering. At least now, she’s more angry than upset. And he’s stopped trying to call her, so that helps.”
“How’s the acting going?”
I shrugged. “Same old, same old. Lots of auditions. Not many jobs. I’m used to it.”
“Work?”
“Work’s okay.” I made a deliberate effort to lighten the mood, at the same time as stopping the line of questioning.
“Hey, guess what. I even had a really sexy guy come in the other night. He kept talking to me all night. He kept watching me as well. He seemed more interested in what I was doing than talking to his poor dinner companion.”
Justin smirked. “Really! Sounds like I should be jealous. Tell me more about this guy. So I know what competition I’m up against.”
I inched closer, placing my hand on his thigh.
The muscles underneath my fingers tensed, but he made no move to remove it.
“Well, he’s really good-looking. And funny.
Although, some of his jokes are pretty lame.
He’s caring, as well.” I carefully slid my hand higher, noting his sharp intake of breath with satisfaction.
He definitely wanted me. You didn’t react like that to a simple touch if you weren’t interested.
I wondered what he’d do if I undid his zipper.
My mouth watered at the thought of finding out what his cock looked like, maybe even what it tasted like.
Perhaps, I’d been going about this the wrong way.
He obviously wasn’t comfortable with hands under clothes, but maybe a fully clothed blow job would be the way to go.
At least, it would be a step in the right direction.
“And he’s very supportive. He keeps telling me I’m a great actor.
Even though all the evidence says otherwise. ”
“He’s obviously very wise.”
I nodded, inching my hand further, my fingers curling around his inner thigh, while my knuckle grazed his crotch.
Gazes locked on each other, I watched as his pupils dilated.
Taking that as encouragement, I went for it, reaching for his zipper and already envisioning the feel of his cock in my hand.
I imagined the way it would slowly get harder as I stroked him in my fist. Then, when he was fully hard I’d get down on the floor between his knees, close my lips over it, and blow his mind.
He’d give in to it, wonder why we’d left it so long.
If I was lucky, he’d return the favor. My fantasy came to a crushing end, as my wrist was grabbed and unceremoniously yanked away.
I sat back, hurt written all over my face. “Why don’t you want me?”
Justin’s look of guilt was immediate. He raised a hand to my face, letting it drop before it made contact. “I do want you. It’s…complicated, Dean. There’s no rush, is there?”
“No rush!” My words sounded bitter. “We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now. And every time…I try to get…close to you, you push me away. You’re starting to make me feel like a sex-obsessed pervert.”
“Shit!” Justin grabbed my hand, holding on tight, his thumb stroking the palm. I had half a mind to yank it away. See how he liked being on the receiving end. I didn’t. I let it rest there, waiting for the explanation I hoped was forthcoming. “I don’t want you to feel like that.”
“Then…what is the problem? I’ve already told you I don’t give a crap about your scars.”
“It’s not that. I trust you.” He shot an imploring look my way. “I can’t explain. Like I said…it’s complicated.”
I did yank my hand away then. “Can’t…or won’t?”
He sighed and rubbed a hand wearily over his forehead. “You’re right. I can explain. But…not tonight.”
“When then?”
Justin let his head sink back against the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. It’s…” He stood suddenly, already looking around for his jacket. “I should go. I don’t want this to turn into an argument.”
I was suddenly scared I’d pushed him too far. That he’d walk away and that would be the last I’d see of him. “When will I see you again?”
Jacket now located, he paused in the middle of putting it on. “When are you free?”
“Whenever. You know my work schedule. It hasn’t changed.”
“How about Tuesday evening?”
I went still. How was I supposed to answer that one? “Tuesday’s absolutely fine.”
“Is it?” He leveled a searching look my way. I all but wilted under it. “You’re not doing anything important? Because, if so, we can make it Wednesday instead.”
His face held a strange, watchful expression while he waited for my answer.
My heart sped up, a cold chill working its way down my spine.
Did he know? No, there was no possible way he could.
If Georgia had said anything, she would have confessed straight away.
The only other person who knew anything, was my brother, and he’d never even met Justin.
I was letting my paranoia take over. I should say yes to Tuesday.
This was my boyfriend. My boyfriend who seemed to have absolutely no interest in sleeping with me, but my boyfriend nonetheless.
Was I really going to turn him down to visit a faceless man in the dark who wanted to sleep with me so much, he paid for the pleasure, week after week?
Whose hands worshipped my body and made me feel incredibly attractive rather than pushing me away every time I got close.
If I did, what kind of man did that make me?
Probably, one who didn’t deserve to have a boyfriend. “Wednesday…”
Justin cocked his head to one side, still waiting.
“Wednesday…would be better.”
He nodded curtly and left, the door banging loudly as he made his exit. I stood alone in the middle of the living room, more confused than I’d ever been before. Something had to end, but I wasn’t sure what.