Chapter 23
Is this what jet lag always feels like? How do people who travel all the time cope?
I’ve been half awake—no, more like a quarter awake—for a little while. But even the idea of getting out of bed feels like trying to compete in an Olympic sport with zero training and no knowledge of the rules.
I did get up at some point in the night, though, woken by a full bladder. That’s when I discovered Tom had been chivalrous enough not to undress me, and I fumbled my way out of my sweaty clothes.
Since the prospect of ever moving again feels like the loftiest of ambitions, this might be where I live now—in a perpetual state of semi-slumber in Tom’s guest room. Perhaps someone could fly Dylan out to visit me on birthdays and Christmas. He’d have to open my gifts for me because I’ll never be able to hold up these lead pipes I now have for arms for long enough to do it myself.
I’m assuming this is the guest room, anyway. It’s definitely not the huge one with the river view I was transfixed by yesterday. That was yesterday, right? Yeah, it has to be—there’s light leaking around the curtains. Or maybe I’ve slept for a full thirty-six hours and it’s almost time to go home.
Movement in the far corner of the room catches my barely open eye. I roll onto my side to face it as Tom appears around the opening door, carrying a tray.
“Ah. You’re awake.” He sets the tray on a dresser and leaps onto the bed, landing flat on his back beside me, shaking the mattress.
My mind and body might be incapable of considering being vertical, but they have no trouble flashing back to the moment he sat me on the desk and I thought that was where we were finally going to have sex—real, honest to goodness, his beautiful dick inside me, sex.
The feeling is heightened by the fact I’m wearing nothing but unsexy, comfy-for-the-flight, white underwear and these sheets are the most luscious things my skin has ever felt. My nipples instantly tighten against the baby-soft fabric.
Here we finally go. He’s here. On the bed. I’m almost naked. My pulse and heart can barely stand the anticipation.
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as awake.” I scooch closer to him, pull an arm out from under the silky warmth, and rest my hand on his chest.
“Most important thing first,” he says, resting his fingers on my bare shoulder. “Maggie texted, saying Dylan got off to school all fine and happy and he’ll message you when he gets home.”
“Thank you.”
“Joint most important thing.” He glides his hand from my shoulder down to my fingers, then laces them with his. “You got undressed.” He pushes up onto his elbow to look down at me.
“I did. And I hope you’re about to do the same.”
He lifts my hand and brushes his lips across the back, then over the inside of my wrist, sending sparks shooting up my arm and making me instantly wet.
“I wish I could.” His breath on the delicate skin of my inner arm gives me a full-body shudder. “You have no idea how much I wish I could.”
“Oh, you can.” I grab the front of his shirt and, with more strength than I thought I had right now, pull him down until his lips meet mine. “You totally can,” I breathe against his mouth in a long, slow, dreamy kiss.
“Argh.” He withdraws with a frustrated groan, his head flopping back. “I called a board meeting for half an hour from now. To confront Gareth and tell him he has to either apologize and agree to anger management classes or resign. And I absolutely can’t miss it—it has to be me who does the confronting.”
“Oh my God.” I flop onto my back. “Is the universe trying to tell us not to have sex or something?”
He scrambles off the bed and heads across the room. “The universe can go to hell.” He returns with the tray he left on the dresser. “Tonight is going to be fucking amazing. But until then, we have a full day. And I figured you’d be hungry, so this”—he places the tray on the bed next to me—“is the best breakfast I could make with things from last night’s Chinese takeout, what was in the cupboard, and a loaf I’d forgotten was in the freezer.”
There’s a plate with two slices of toast and a bowl that’s half baked beans and half something else. “What’s that?” I point at the something else.
“Egg fried rice.” He grimaces. “It’s kind of breakfasty, right? Got eggs in it.”
A little giggle sneaks out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s incredibly thoughtful of you to go to that trouble.” I pick up the mug of steaming coffee. “Thank you.”
“Well, you slept through dinner. And we didn’t eat much yesterday. So I figured you’d be starving.”
“I am.” The hot coffee is a shock to my empty belly. “I really am.”
“Great. I have to run. But here’s how today is going to go. When you’ve eaten and had a shower or bath or whatever else you want to do, call that number.”
He points to a piece of paper on the tray.
“That’s Hermann, my driver. He’ll pick you up and take you somewhere I think you’ll like.”
Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to consume every morsel in front of me, I bite a corner off a slice of toast.
“When you get there, ask for Sven.” He pauses and scrutinizes my face. “Are you with it enough to remember that, or should I write it down?”
“It’s fine,” I say through the toast. “Call Hermann. He’ll take me to Sven. Feel like I might be in a spy movie, but I’ve got it.”
“After that, Hermann will bring you to the pub where we’re meeting Hugo for a late lunch. Then after that”—he looks at his watch—“fuck, I have to go. But after that, I have another surprise I’m sure you’re going to love.”
“Is that bringing me back here and banging my brains out?” I ask over the rim of the coffee mug.
“No.” He leans over the tray and kisses my forehead, exactly like I just about remember him doing when he put me to bed last night. “I’ll do that afterward.”