A Private Affair - A.C. Arthur Page 0,14

about no discussion of prior lovers while in bed with the current lover.”

“We’re not lovers.” Her response was quick.

He moved over, not close enough to touch her, but close enough that she no longer had to stretch out her arm to touch him.

“For the next twenty-four hours we are.”

His feet brushed against hers again, but she didn’t jump this time.

“I’ve cuddled before. I can see the appeal, but it’s not high on my list of things to do after sex.” He paused. “What about you?”

Riley had already realized the folly in asking that question and she’d hoped he would stick to his rule about not discussing former lovers.

“I don’t see the appeal, either.” There, she didn’t have to admit that Walt was always in a hurry to leave the bed when they were finished, and that with the couple of men she’d slept with in the three years since her very public breakup, she’d been the one to get up and leave first. Just as she’d done with Chaz.

“So we won’t cuddle,” he said. “We’ll just lie here and go to sleep.”

“And play footsie?” Riley added.

“Well, since you asked.” Chaz turned on his side and extended his legs so that both of his feet tangled between hers.

They were warm, and focusing so much on this simple yet very different touch had managed to calm the anxiety that was steadily building inside of her. She smiled into the darkness.

* * *

Chaz listened as Riley’s breathing steadied and she finally fell asleep. He couldn’t see the clock but he’d guess maybe a half hour to forty minutes had passed since they’d first climbed into bed. Riley Gold wasn’t used to sleeping with men. The assessment kind of went with the tabloid’s perception of her, but a part of Chaz had always envisioned her as the intelligent businesswoman who shed that shield in the privacy of her own home, opening up to the man in her life. However, instinct had told him cuddling wasn’t on her agenda. That and the fact that she’d gotten into bed and lain so close to the edge he was afraid she might fall off. Still, just as pleasure was the key to tearing down her defenses, touch was one of the first steps to that pleasure.

Their feet were still entwined as she lay on her back and he on his side. She hadn’t made any move to get closer to him, but she hadn’t ordered him back to his side of the bed, either. That was progress.

Why he was even the least bit concerned about that progress, Chaz had no idea.

This was just sex. Long overdue and really good sex, but just sex nonetheless. He wasn’t in the market for anything else. And neither was she. They were the perfect couple, or noncouple, as their business lives came first.

Except for tonight. Chaz wasn’t going to think about his business or the work he was doing for his uncle and he didn’t want Riley thinking about her job, either. These moments were reserved for them. While this hadn’t been the way Chaz thought he would end his evening, he was glad things had turned in his favor.

He’d had sex with the infamous Riley Gold. A triumphant smile touched his lips but fell away the moment he recalled how quickly she’d jumped up from the bed and run into the bathroom. For a few startled seconds he’d wondered what that was about, but realized he already knew. While the fashion industry might look at Riley like some worldly princess trying to make a name for herself, Chaz had always felt he knew her better. It was strange, this insight into a woman who’d done nothing but brush him off since the first day they’d met.

Chaz wasn’t Riley’s type—he was too outgoing, had too many women and was too public with his social media background in comparison to the privacy she fought like hell to maintain. And yet, they’d been drawn to each other from the start. So much so that he was barely restraining himself from touching her again. Sure, his feet were on hers and for the last little while he’d been content with that. Now, not so much.

He eased over slightly until the warmth from her body beneath the covers reached out to him. With the lightest touch imaginable, Chaz let his fingers trace a line from her wrist up her bare arm. To do this he’d had to push up the sleeve of her robe. Her