Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Phoebe
I ’d barely slept, unable to stop thinking about those moments with Henry last night. I’d never been kissed so thoroughly.
While I hated not telling my two best friends about it in every minute detail, I also couldn’t deny how exciting it felt to keep something so special a secret. Something just for me that no one else could ruin with their opinions, judgements, or worries.
I’d never done anything like this before, and it was all because of him.
Him and this idea.
Him and those eyes.
Him and that mouth.
Him and those hands.
Lord, those hands .
Henry had been right. When you kept something to yourself, it became sacred.
With him on my mind, I decided to get dressed as quickly and as quietly as I could, slip out of the apartment, then head down to the pool.
I left the girls in their beds and a note on the kitchenette counter telling them not to panic.
After they’d brought me back to our room last night, I’d been given an inquisition into what had happened with Henry on our walk back from the bar.
They’d wanted to know every detail, and I’d had to tell them a lot of half-truths just to get them off my back.
Yes, he was more than respectful the whole time.
No, he didn’t argue with me once. He was actually very sweet.
He’s still annoying, though. I don’t understand why he can’t just smile more.
I don’t think he hit that guy because he has feelings for me, Rhea. I think he did it because he’s the type of man who hates scumbags.
Henry Cohen isn’t capable of having ‘feelings’, Bailey. Not those kinds of feelings anyway.
I should have worried how easily those words came to me, but I’d made a promise to Henry to keep it between us—at least for now—and I wasn’t going to break that promise if I could help it.
I didn’t want to.
It was too early for there to be anyone else around the pool when I got there, so I chose my favourite sun lounger, draped a towel over it, and pulled out my book to read before I laid out in my bikini, grateful I wasn’t staring at that white ceiling any longer, overthinking everything.
I must have read the same line of my novel fifteen times, though, because no matter how hard I tried to focus on my current book boyfriend, Reed Easton, I couldn’t get Henry Cohen out of my mind.
Then, as if I’d conjured him merely by thought, he appeared out of nowhere, sitting down onto the edge of the lounger beside me, wearing nothing but a pair of teal blue swim shorts and a smile on his handsome face.
How he made his domineering presence known without uttering a single word, I had no idea, but he had my attention with very little effort yet again.
I allowed my eyes to rake over his body, taking in the hard lines of the muscles in his stomach and across his chest, over his shoulders and down to his forearms, before my gaze settled on those fingers that had brought me so much pleasure the night before.
I licked my lips, looking back up at his face when I heard him clear his throat.
“Morning,” he said, brows bouncing.
“Morning.” I smiled right back.
“You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Someone looks very pleased with himself, though. I take it you slept just fine.”
“Nope. Barely slept at all. Just kept thinking about how you were cruelly stolen from me last night before I even had chance to do this again…”
After a quick glance over both his shoulders, he leaned over to press a soft kiss to my lips I had not been expecting. It sent ripples of desire to my toes, and when he sat back down, all I could do was stare at him, open-mouthed.
It was Henry’s turn to lick his lips before he dragged his bottom one through his teeth, smug as all hell. “ Now, I feel better.”
“Henry, someone could have seen us.”
“Nobody who matters. They’re all still in bed.”
“But—”
He leaned over again to run his thumb over my bottom lip before he tugged it down and just stared at it as though he wanted to devour it. “Do you have any idea how good this lip feels to kiss?”
I dropped my book onto the lounger and shook my head like an imbecile.
“It feels real fucking good, Phoebe.”
A sigh filled with sexual frustration escaped me, because after last night, I needed more.
“What do we have here?” he asked, picking up my book and turning it over in his hands.
“If I need to tell you that, you may need to go back to school.”
“Ha-ha.” He deadpanned, laying a look on me. “Such a?—”
“Smart arse?”
Henry shook his head in amusement and looked back down at the book again, reading the blurb aloud. “Forever Engaged. A gripping romantic tale of a woman taken from her high society life and dropped into the villainous world of the?—”
“To yourself,” I interrupted, and to his credit, he started to silently mouth the words, which only made me smile as he flipped it back over to look at the cover.
“Sounds rubbish. Is this guy on the front supposed to be good-looking?”
“Hey!” I tried to snatch it back, but he pulled it out of my reach, opening up the book extra wide, making me cringe. “Careful, Henry. The spine, for goodness’ sake!”
“The… spine?” He eyed me, smirking.
I swung my legs off the lounger as I tried to reach for my book again, leaning over, no doubt with my boobs on display as he held me back with one arm.
“Everyone knows it’s a privilege to crease the spine of a book, and you haven’t earnt that right as someone who just said you thought it sounded rubbish. ”
Henry’s laughter filled the air. “I have to earn the right to open a book properly?”
“That’s right, you do. If you’re going to step into a fictional world, you do not disrespect it willy nilly.”
“Willy nilly.” He laughed harder. “You’re really fucking cute sometimes, you know that?”
“I’ll give you cute, Henry Cohen. Give it back .”
With just one hand holding the book, he managed to put his thumb into a page where I’d highlighted several lines of text that had resonated with me, and that’s when my embarrassment really started to kick in.
“What’s this?” He cast a quick glance my way before he focused back on the book. “ Only a person who has had to endure fake love before knows what it’s like to finally be set free from the shackles of their never-ending performance. “Woah. That’s deep, Phoebe.”
With a huff of resignation, I gave up and sat back with a slump. “It isn’t always the meaning of the quote, okay? Sometimes I just appreciate the way a writer manages to weave simple words into a physical emotion that makes you stop and take stock of… I don’t know… life.”
“Interesting.” He brought the book down in front of him again, flicking through the pages with ease until he stopped on another. “What’s this little heart next to the name…”—he leaned in closer—“Reed Easton?”
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms, feeling the redness creeping up my neck. “I’m not having to fake the hate towards you so much this morning, Cohen.”
His eyes shot up to mine at the use of his last name. “I’ll let that one slide, but only because you look so cute when you’re red-faced and pouty.”
“Stop calling me cute.”
“No can do. Just stating facts.”
“ Grr .” I tried to snatch it off him again, but he just chuckled and evaded my move before he raised a brow, waiting for me to answer his previous question about my little page drawings.
“Fine. I leave love hearts next to moments where the book boyfriend—in this one, that’s Reed Easton, in case you’re too dense to follow—does something that makes me, I don’t know…” I waved a hand around in front of me. “Swoon.”
“You mean like what I did to you last night?”
I tilted my head. “Your smugness is showing.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
“To think I was looking forward to seeing you today.”
Henry chuckled and finally handed the book back over to me. Like the pouty child he’d already accused me of being, I snatched it back from him and tucked it away in my beach bag, knowing that with Henry by my side, I wouldn’t be getting any serious reading done for a while now anyway.
Reed Easton, who?
“You’re stopping me from reading. Do you know what a crime that is?”
“You saying you’d rather spend time with him than me?”
“He doesn’t pick on me as much as you do.” I tried to glare at him but couldn’t stop my lips from twitching, giving me away. He had me in a chokehold, and he knew it.
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s adorable how you leave little love notes to yourself like that in your books,” he said, pushing himself to the edge of his lounger so our knees brushed together.
It was such a small piece of contact, nobody around us would notice or think anything of it, but he may as well have pushed my bikini bottoms aside and started groping me in public.
That’s how capable a single touch from him was of bringing me to my knees.
“I’d hardly call them love notes to myself.”
“Sure, they are. You’re telling yourself what you want in life. Those highlights and love hearts aren’t just an appreciation for the written word. They’re things you’ve either felt in the past or want to feel in the future.”
How the hell did he get inside my head so easily?
I thought of all the things I’d like to feel from him and with him soon, but before I could say anything, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought it in front of him.
“By the way, I’ve been thinking.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Funny. Anyway. In order to make this sneaking around a bit easier, maybe we should exchange numbers.” He peered up at me, assessing my reaction. “But only if you want to.”
“You’ve had your fingers inside me, Henry. I think I can give you my number without freaking out too much.”
My words hit, and I relished the way he stared at me with parted lips, as well as the sharp inhale of a breath he took. “Jesus, Phoebe.”
“What? You were the one who wanted to play.” I leaned closer, my gaze dropping down to the semi in his shorts before I looked up at him with a knowing smile on my face. “Keep up, won’t you?”
I had no idea where this confidence had come from, only that around him it felt as natural as breathing to me, so I took his phone out of his hand, put my number into it, and hit the call button until I heard my phone buzzing in my bag. He still hadn’t moved when I slipped it back into his hand.
“You look a little flustered, Henry. Let me go get you an iced coffee to cool you down.”
Without waiting for his response, I stood and sashayed my way to the bar, feeling his heated gaze on me the entire time, letting him know that when it came to ‘us’ on this holiday, we hadn’t even started playing properly yet.