Chapter 26 #2
“If I must.” Simon’s shoulder rose in an overly casual, lopsided shrug. “They’re good pictures. “
“Seriously?” No way he didn’t see me mooning over him in every single one of them. He’d told me he didn’t want loved up nonsense. “I thought—”
“Let me rephrase.” He lifted his hands, signing theatrically slow, with demonstration-level precision. “They’re Good Pictures.”
His infectious smile coaxed mine into the open. Damn him.
“Do you have any ice?”
Yanking the freezer open, I rummaged for the plastic ice tray and knuckle-cracked a handful of cubes out onto the counter, holding them out to him like an apology-substitute peace offering. “Here.”
They clattered into the bottom of his shaker like dice into a pot, only I didn’t know what game we were playing.
“It’s lucky you took them,” Simon continued, more casually. “The photos. They saved Sev a lot of work yesterday. She’s very grateful.”
“Oh.” Practically, that did make sense. “Good.”
My obsession with him could remain stranded in the corner, stumbling over its oversized ears and trying to fly. We didn’t have to talk about it. Ever.
Except, we probably did have to talk about it. At some point. Simon putting on the perfect boyfriend act when he didn’t even mean it was torture.
Dead-controlled, I boosted up onto the counter, perching next to Simon’s cabinet of wonders, watching him. When had he taken his jacket off? Rolled up shirt sleeves and a waistcoat did very good things for me.
Simon splashed measures out of the bottles with all the precision of a mad scientist. His eyes were warm when he looked up, smiling. He liked me watching.
Capping the shaker, his arm flexed as he picked it up, doing a little Tom Cruise thing one-handed. And my stomach flipped.
“Show off.”
With a wink, Simon poured an arc of liquid into each of the thin stemmed glasses. Condensation frosted the sides. And an itchy buzz started in my ears.
It was a drink. I knew it was just a drink. But I wasn’t elegant and cosmopolitan – I’d look like a malcoordinated T-Rex trying to pretend I could be. It’d be just as much of a mistake as pretending casual with Simon was fine.
“You’re staring at that like you’ve never had a Naked Lady before.”
“A what?” I nearly bolted for the door. Never mind this was my house.
“Oh, I thought you liked Naked Ladies. It is a very bisexual – sorry, I mean good – cocktail,” he purred. “Always get those two mixed up.”
I snorted softly. “Only on purpose.”
“Guilty.” His fingertips roved along the outer seam of my jeans. With me up on the counter, he almost had to look up to keep our eyes level. “Flustering you is one of the great joys of my life.”
My breath caught. His hands settled on my thighs like he fully intended to keep them there, and – oh, hello – he stepped close, nudging my knees wider apart to open up a space for him.
I didn’t even hesitate. As far as I was concerned, he belonged right between my thighs, forever. But Simon was only having fun.
I wished I could duck my head and still keep talking to him. Holding eye contact made my chest ache with confusion.
“You didn’t have to do all this. For me.”
“But I wanted to. I like doing nice things for people I enjoy spending time with.”
The back of my neck came up all prickly with his contradictions. Much more of this, and I’d lose the plot completely.
“Why?”
Simon gave me an exaggerated frown. “Can’t a man make his interpreter a complicated drink without needing an ulterior motive?”
“It seems kind of loaded. Your interpreter’s a bit more straight-forward. Usually just goes for a pint.”
“I can tell you exactly what’s in it, if that helps.”
“It’s not about the drink.”
“I did figure that out,” Simon said, too gently.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Why had I needed to take the sheen off? The world got on its knees and did exactly what he wanted it to every day of his life. Usually I wouldn’t even complain about the carpet burn.
“…What if the space-time continuum ruptures and a mischievous god appears to play havoc with the universe, because you’re not supposed to be pretending to be my boyfriend when nobody’s watching?”
Simon’s jaw muscle flexed. “Won’t happen.” He glanced away, then fixed on me with renewed intensity. “The Q are trans-dimensional beings with only nearly omnipotent powers. Distinctly unlikely there will be any gods appearing here.”
Two fingers around the base of one of the glasses, he slid it towards me like a chess piece across a board. Challenge issued.
I picked up the glass.
“If I end up down a rabbit hole with an invisible cat, getting stoned with a giant caterpillar, I am going to blame you.”
It tasted good. The sweet sharpness stung my throat in the best way. The world did not in fact implode.
Laughing, Simon tapped at the centre of my forehead. “Aren’t all these supposed tos you’ve got whirring round in this head of yours exhausting?” He didn’t pull his hand away. The pressure of his finger pad felt good to lean into. Solid. Needed. Mine.
“Maybe.”
Damn him and the way he saw right through me. I hooked my heel around his calf, behind his knee, and he let me tug him close. He reached for the back of my head, fingers raking against my scalp, raising tingles all along my skin.
“Might be time to let them go.”
I hummed agreement, butting gently against his forehead, hand at his neck, nuzzling a line of kisses down his face all the way to his ready lips. If Simon really wanted all this, then maybe I could let go.
He levered me back and the weight of his attention fell to my lips.
“As far as I’m concerned,” he clarified, “there is nothing at all complicated about me wanting to be here.”