the long rays of the afternoon sun bounce off the windows of the red phone booth next to the Tube station in front of us.
“I need to go see Emma,” he says, a tiny hint of reluctance in his voice, then quickly adds, like he needs to clarify, “I want to see Emma.”
“Of course you do,” I say, though the distinction is not lost on me. I wouldn’t mind wandering some more with him, walking on into the evening as it spills into night.
But time apart is good.
It’s wise.
And it’s inevitable.
After all, we have less than seventy-two hours of this tryst remaining. Wait. No. More like sixty-eight or sixty-seven, since we just whiled away several hours.
In the blink of an eye.
My chest squeezes as I hear the clock ticking toward tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
Fitz scrubs a hand over his beard. Takes a beat. “Dean.”
“Yes?”
“Come over tonight?”
It doesn’t come out as a command. It’s a question. Like Fitz thinks there’s a chance I might say no.
There isn’t a chance in hell I’d say anything but yes.
“I will.”
“When?” He sounds relieved but also eager.
“When are you free?”
“Nine. I can peel away by nine.”
I smile playfully, keeping it light, since that’s the order of the day. Since those are the rules. “So far away.”
He breathes out hard, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, and shifts his gaze back and forth like he’s thinking. For a few seconds, he seems lost in thought, or maybe indecision. But then his eyes sharpen, and he grabs my hand and jerks me against him on the street. “I really want to see you again tonight.”
“You will. I’ll be there,” I say, reassuring him.
“I know,” he whispers, but his voice isn’t cocky this time. There’s a note of urgency to it. He presses his forehead to mine, his voice going smoky, whispery. “Fucking you was incredible . . . it was better than it’s ever been.”
The words come out like a heated confession.
Like they can’t be anything but the truth, so help him, God.
I feel the same, and the memory of our time in bed flickers before me in a burst of heat and desire.
“Same,” I murmur. “Same for me.”
His hand curls tighter around mine, squeezing my fingers. “You and me. In bed. It’s intense, man. Isn’t it?”
“It is, Fitz.” I feel lightheaded, drugged from this conversation.
He pulls back slightly, meeting my gaze. “You feel it too?” His eyes are vulnerable, as if he desperately needs this confirmation.
And I want to give it to him, because I can, because it’s safe. Admitting the truth of our chemistry can’t hurt me. “I do. I do feel it.”
Fitz’s breath shudders. “It’s kind of mind-boggling.”
“It’s a little bit crazy.”
“Or maybe a lot,” he says, then he lets go of my hand. “I should go, or I’ll never see Emma. I’ll just get in a black cab with you and get seriously randy.”
He says it like it’s a joke, and it likely is, but there’s something in his voice that makes it sound like he needs to get away from me.
Maybe to recalibrate.
That’s not such a bad idea.
When you want someone so badly, spending all your time together borders on dangerous.
And with him, I’m feeling more than a little bit dangerous.
He turns to head into the station, then he doubles back, grabs my forearm, and spins me around to face him. “Spend the night again?”
“I will.” Some little part of me is cheering, glad he asked now, glad I won’t have to assume anything.
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Later in the evening. After an early dinner with my dad.”
Fitz runs his hand down my arm. “Spend the morning with me too.”
“I will.”
And I want to. And that feels like a new kind of danger. But it’s a risk I’m diving into headfirst, no parachute.
At nine o’clock, I knock on the hotel room door. I have my gym bag with me, a change of clothes in it for tomorrow. My temporary fling opens the door, and I’m gobsmacked.
Fitz wears only jeans. He’s barefoot and shirtless, all those carved muscles and ink on display. He’s got a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
He lifts a brow, holding up the tumbler. “Fancy a nightcap?”
“Why, yes, I would.”
I step inside, drop the bag, and head to the bar, where he’s cracked open a bottle of scotch.
“You trying to get me pissed? Don’t you know I’m a sure thing?” I ask as I pour the scotch.
He comes up behind me, aligning