It isn’t often that I’m the one awake. It seems that when we’re together, I’m the one who wakes to his sexy smile. The few moments of seeing him at peace gives me a strange sense of satisfaction.
I can’t deny that he makes me happy, and with all my heart, I believe it’s mutual. I’m not sure a man can fake the gratification he’s shown.
Our plan-free weekend has been filled with marvelous options that I never expected. It has consisted of everything and nothing—from pizza to shower concerts, to wrapped-in-towels Netflix marathons, to dressed in his shorts or maybe just his T-shirt and sitting on the fire escape, to long torturous, thoroughly gratifying sexual encounters and finding sustenance. Except for accepting deliveries, the door to his apartment hasn’t opened, and we mutually decided to turn off our phones.
After the mess that has been the last three weeks of work, I had no idea how much I needed a do-nothing-but-sleep-eat-screw-and-relax weekend. It’s been perfect and yet as I lie here beside him, my chest aches.
If I were smart and sensible, I wouldn’t wait. Instead, I’d ease my way out of his bed now and slip out of his apartment and his life.
I just know that this time next week I’ll be back in London. I also know that it won’t be to pack.
Don’t ask me how I know.
I do.
And yet I can’t pry myself away from this man.
It’s an attraction like I’ve never known. From his warm, naked body beside mine and his plans for our plan-free weekend, to the knowledge that I’m supposed to meet his parents tomorrow...or is it today?
I search for a clock.
Two in the morning.
It’s today.
As much as I don’t want to hurt him when I tell him I’m moving back to London, I can’t make me hurt myself by giving up one minute we could be together. Even if it is the smart thing to do, I can’t pull myself away.
I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll be able to make myself step onto the plane next Friday.
I’ve never before considered a relationship over my career, and I find it puzzling that the thoughts are even occurring. Yet they are.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Trevor
I wake to my dark bedroom and reach for Shana, but she’s not there. All at once, I’m sitting up and straining into the darkness, scanning my bedroom and listening for anything. The sounds of the city that never sleeps are just beyond my window while everything within reach is silent. Well, except for my heart. It’s now beating within my ears.
“Shana?”
I call out once and then again, louder. “Shana.”
My feet hit the floor as I make my way toward the attached bathroom.
The door is wide and she’s not there.
I race toward the hall to the second bathroom.
Empty.
An unfamiliar sense of panic bubbles from deep inside me.
Where is she?
What happened?
I’m not losing her again. Not after the time we’ve had together. I won’t.
“Shana.”
It’s as I turn from the hallway to the living room that I remember to breathe and my heart slows to a healthy pace.
Outside the window beyond the open pane is her silhouette upon the fire escape. For only a second, I stand and watch.
Her long unrestrained hair is blowing around her as she sits upon the windowsill. Step by step with my bare feet upon the wood floor, I slowly approach, not wanting to startle her and at the same time wondering how she didn’t hear me.
“Shana?” I say softly, lifting the sash higher.
“Trevor?”
Though she turned away after saying my name, it wasn’t before I saw the glistening tears on her cheeks or heard the emotion in my name.
I reach out my hand. “Baby, please come back in.”
She shakes her head, but nevertheless, she does as I ask, gripping my hand and stepping over the sill and back into the apartment. Neither of us mentions my total lack of clothing as her long legs bend, toes point, and feet come into contact with the hardwood floor. As she gracefully navigates the window, I’m reminded of her on that runway. With as beautiful as she was that afternoon, I find having her here with nothing on but my T-shirt even sexier.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says, wrapping her arms around my torso and burying her face against my chest. She’s chilled against my skin.
Wrapping her in my arms, we stand before the window, neither of us speaking. From the way she’s trembling, I’m afraid the source of her shaking is from more than the cool night air. From the dampness on my chest, I believe she’s crying. Although I’ve never been good at women’s emotions—is any man?—I slowly rub a circle upon her back until she takes a deep breath.
“Shana, what is it?”
When she looks up, her blue eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I bought something. I brought it here and forgot to wear it.”
“What?”
She pulls away. “It’s Sunday. We’re going to your brother’s for dinner. I have to go back to the hotel and then...then...” She turns away.
Reaching for her hand, I pull her back to my embrace. “And then we’ll handle what comes next.”
“But you don’t understand. I forgot about the nightgown. Now it’s too late.”
I shake my head trying to figure out what she’s saying. “My lady, you are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. I personally think that Saks should consider a boyfriend’s T-shirt line. I mean, I know they’ll charge ten times as much as the real T-shirt, but damn, seeing you in mine and nothing else—it’s hot.”
She cranes her neck upward. “But I bought it for you. And now...” Her forehead drops to my chest.
Slowly, I release her and take a step back. “I’m still here and so are you.”
“No. It doesn’t work like that.”
“What doesn’t work like what?”
“I’m supposed to surprise you and come out of the bathroom all sexy, not a snotty mess with tangled hair like someone who’s been sitting outside crying.”
I palm her cheek as she tilts her head toward my hand. “Shana Price, you’re sexy every minute of every day and night.” I tease her hair with my fingers. “And I know how your hair got like that, which makes it the sexiest hairstyle you could ever wear.”
“But...”
“Yes, I love your butt and your tits. If you bought me a surprise, I don’t want to miss it.”
“Now, it’s not a surp—”
I touch my finger to her lips. “Should I wait out here or in bed?”
Her tits push outward as she inhales, yet her blue eyes never leave mine. Finally, she replies, “It’s the middle of the night.”
“No, my lady, it’s the middle of our weekend. You tell me, bed or here, or I’ll decide.”
“Bed...but give me a minute first and promise me that you won’t fall asleep.”
“There’s not a chance.”
Shana slips through my fingers as her smile reemerges.
While I give her the minute she requested, I close the living room window. Before I do, I glance out and up. The space between the buildings isn’t large, yet up in the sky is a full moon. I think of an old childhood story about wishes. I’m not sure what makes me think of it, but with my hands on the windowsill I look up to the moon. My mind tells me it’s children’s fables, that I used up my quota when I was young.