looks so much like, to love her.
West takes my silence and reads it well. “Well, you should know. Because you are fucking stunning.”
I lick my dry lips. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ve known a lot of beautiful women.”
“I have. But like I said, none quite like you.”
Sometimes, his honesty is hard to hear, and it’s this exact moment that it bugs me most. I feel irrational jealousy at the other women he’s been with. It’s stupid, I know. It’s not like I don’t know he’s been with other women. That he’ll be with other women after me. But it’s there all the same.
I shove it down. Deep down inside of me to deal with later.
“And … is that a good thing?” I ask him. “That I’m different?”
He stares at me. His expression impossible to read. Then, he says, “Very.”
That one single word lights a spark inside of my chest that I’m not sure I know how to put out.
But I have to. Because I can’t get attached to him.
“Bath’s getting full.” I busy myself with turning the taps off and testing the water with my hand. “Temperature is perfect,” I tell him. “You can get in if you want.”
West shoves his boxers down over his hips and climbs into the tub. Sitting back, he rests his arms on the edges of the bath.
I pull my tank top off and remove my shorts. I’m wearing a bikini underneath.
Usually, I have zero problems with getting naked in front of West. But after that conversation, I’m fully exposed. A bit vulnerable.
“I need to tie my hair up. Just gonna grab a hairband.” I nip into the bathroom, thankful for the moment alone to gather myself. I grab a scrunchie and tie my hair into a messy bun, so it doesn’t get wet in the bath.
Then, I suck it up and go back outside.
West’s eyes come to me the moment I step through the doorway.
This moment feels etched in tension, and I know it’s because of me. Because I’m feeling weird. I’m being weird. I need to quit with this shit.
I know how this thing with us ends—with him flying back to America and me to England—and that’s in a week.
Reaching back, I pull the string tie on my bikini and the one around my neck. Catching it in my hand, I push my bikini bottoms down my legs and leave both items on the floor.
I walk over to the bath. West bends and parts his legs, so I can get in. I step into the bath and turn, putting my back to him, and sit down in the space between his legs. West tugs me back, bringing me to rest against his chest.
“You okay?” he asks me.
“Yeah.” I tip my head back and look at him. “I’m okay.”
He smiles and kisses me. “Good.” He reaches over and gets my wine, passing it to me before getting his own beer.
The hand not holding his beer rests against my stomach. His fingers start drawing circles over my skin. He’s always touching me, and I really like it. It makes me wonder if he’s naturally a tactile person or if he’s just like this with me.
And I really shouldn’t be thinking things like that. God, what is going on with me today?
“This is nice,” he murmurs. “I never get baths back home.”
“You not have a tub?” I ask.
“I do. But I never use it. Always just get a shower. Quicker. But this, sitting here with you, it’s nice. Obviously, the best part is that you’re naked and wet and your sweet ass is pressed up against my dick.”
“Obviously.”
“I have a question,” he says a moment later.
“That I might or might not answer.”
“You’ll answer.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.”
“Okay. Go ahead with your question.”
“So, I’ve been sitting here for a good few minutes, tickling your stomach, and you haven’t so much as twitched.”
“I’m not ticklish.”
“Told you you’d answer—and before I even asked the question.”
Fucker. “Ugh. Whatever.”
“Seriously though, how are you not ticklish? Everyone is.”
“Not me.” I shrug and take a sip of my wine.
“Maybe I should try tickling you harder.”
“You could try. But you’ll get nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“So weird.”
“Also awesome.”
“No. Just weird. You’re a freak of nature, Double D. You know that?”
“Yep. And I wear my freak badge proudly.”
“As you should. Lucky for you, I happen to quite like freaks.”
I tilt my head back and look at him, my blues tangling up with his grays, and I feel this tug in my chest that I force myself to ignore.
I