on. Maybe Ward and I aren’t so different after all. He needs me as much as I need him.
“I don’t want you to feel awkward.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ears. I examine his face, all of his features as he does this. All I want to do is put my arms around him and lose myself in his embrace. But I want to make sure this isn’t the post-sex feel good hormones still floating around in his bloodstream and making him be all happy.
“I’m your housekeeper,” I say, scratching my neck, “You’re a bestselling author.” I’ve broached that subject, tiptoed around the boundaries trying to figure out if there is a way forward for us.
He frowns again, moving his hand away from the fork he was just about to lift. “Why does that worry you so much?”
“It doesn’t worry me. I’m just saying, that’s all.” And then I remember there’s something else. “Jamie can’t know,” I say, quickly, suddenly remembering that I haven’t called him back.
“I wouldn’t want him to know either—not because of the status thing.”
“What status thing?”
“You seem to be worried, you just said that I’m this high earning author and you’re a housekeeper. What will people say?” He throws his hands up in horror, mimicking fear and shock. I am seeing a new side to Ward now that we’ve been intimate. I love that he is opening up to me. It’s painfully slow going, but at least I’m seeing this new side to him.
“We can tell Jamie, if you want,” I suggest only to test his reaction. I sense he doesn’t want Jamie to know anything.
“Wouldn’t that make things difficult for you? He’s your friend and you’re the one who has to deal with him.”
I don’t know what Jamie would think or say, and I don’t want to complicate my life further by explaining anything. “We should just keep this as our dirty little secret.”
This seems to annoy him because he sets his fork down again, only it’s not gentle, and makes a hard noise on the plate. “You consider it to be dirty?” he asks, obviously not liking the description.
“Well…” It’s not exactly above board. “We didn’t meet under normal circumstances. You didn’t wine and dine me. We didn’t really get to know one another. This isn’t normal in any way, shape or form.”
“I don’t give a shit about normal. I don’t care what people think. This feels right. You feel right.” He leans forward and drops a kiss on my lips. A ray of happiness bursts inside me and warms every part of my body. It’s not the kiss that did that but the fact that he’s having this conversation with me and admitting how he feels about me. Ward Maddox has done a complete turnaround.
This feels right.
I’m so happy I could cry. “You weren’t exactly a cheerful happy-go-lucky guy when I first met you,” I say, cupping the side of his face. I can’t help but slide my thumb over his thick stubble.
“I’m pretty happy now though.” He winks at me. “I haven’t had sex for over a year.”
“So you keep reminding me”
“I haven’t.” He drops another light kiss on my lips. The food has taken a backseat. We’re facing one another directly, stool to stool.
“Glad to be of service,” I say, kissing him right back.
“I might be out of practice.”
“Out of practice?” The way he took me, the way I came, he’s anything but out of practice.
His hand drops to my neck, then starts to slide lower. “I could do with some more practice.”
I jerk in my seat as he cups my breast, runs his thumb over me. “I’m sure we can get plenty of exercise in. I’d be more than happy to create the perfect training environment for you.”
He pulls his hand away, and the nerve endings in my chest rise up in protest. “Need to eat,” he says, motioning for me to start as well. “You’re going to need all the sustenance you can get.”
I start eating again, though my focus is less on my appetite and getting him back into my bed. “I still don’t know a lot about you. You’re as mysterious to me as your books are.” The most I ever got from him was when he told me about his stepdad locking him in the attic.
“I’m a writer, and an introvert. I’m not good with people. You bring me out a bit more.”
Is that a compliment, I wonder? I have no idea how