She lifted up on her elbows, looking down into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Panicking? No. Questioning my sanity? Maybe a little bit.”
He cupped her cheeks, tugging her down for a gentle kiss. It melted her heart, and made her wonder if she was worrying herself over nothing. “No questioning needed. Don’t over think it. People do this kind of thing all the time.”
“Not me.”
A loud boom sounded off in the distance, and they both turned toward the window. The fireworks had started. He was right. It hadn’t just been a line to get her back to his apartment. He had an excellent view of the sky.
His arms flexed around her. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”
“Funny. I thought we just had one ourselves.”
He chuckled and hugged her close. She watched the burst of colors in silence, not moving. He seemed oddly still, too. It should have felt awkward being wrapped in his arms, naked and sweaty, watching the fireworks. She barely knew him, and yet she’d just had the best sex of her life in this very bed. She should be ashamed or feel something other than … content.
Yep. She was perfectly content to stay here, in his arms, all night long.
Resting her cheek on his chest, she let out a little sigh. After a second’s hesitation, his hands rubbed up and down her back, almost reverently. Once the show dwindled down to nothing, she gathered up her nerve and rested her chin on his chest.
He smiled up at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You look confused. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t exactly do this kind of thing. I have no idea what happens next. I’m kind of out of my element.” And naked. Very naked. Suddenly, she needed to get dressed. She rolled off of him and grabbed her skirt, yanking it up her legs with trembling hands. Though she didn’t know what she felt right now, panic and pleasure were mixing and confusing the hell out of her. “I can’t find my shirt.”
He sighed. “It’s over there. By the door. And what happens next is entirely up to you. You could go … or you could stay.”
The way he said the word stay made it sound as if that’s what he wanted her to do. Or was she imagining things? She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. Once she was covered, she crossed her arms over her chest and faced him. As soon as she saw him lying there, still naked, she flushed. “Shouldn’t you get dressed now?”
“I could, if you’d like.” He stood up and walked over to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked deep into her eyes. Just looking at him calmed her rapid heartbeat down, and made her stop worrying. “I know you’re freaking out right now, but sometimes not knowing what’s going on is a good thing. Sometimes, it’s good to let go.” He rubbed his jaw. “To have no idea what’s coming tomorrow.”
“For you maybe. Not me.” She bit down hard on her lip. “I don’t like surprises or not knowing things.”
He paled. “No matter what you decide to do … if you need anything at all, I’m here for you. Whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or a night of forgetting, I’m here. Okay?”
Lexi rolled her hands into fists. If she didn’t, she might touch him. And if she touched him, she wouldn’t be able to think straight. And if she couldn’t think straight, she might forget all about Hugh and jump into Justin’s arms without a second thought. And that wouldn’t be fair to Hugh’s memory. Or, to Justin.
Her heart wrenched. “Okay.”
He kissed her one more time, so soft and gentle he broke her heart again. His hands dropped from her shoulders, and she slowly opened her eyes. She almost didn’t want to. Almost didn’t want to remember. He was looking at her with a mixture of happiness and sadness, all rolled into one.
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m going to hit the loo. Are you still going to be here when I get back?”
She nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Brilliant. We have to talk about, uh … something when I come back.”
Talk? What did he want to talk about? “Okay.”
He gave her a long, searching stare she couldn’t read, then headed for the bathroom door—still bare assed naked. Hot damn, the man looked good.
While he washed up, she busied herself with putting the rest of her clothes on. How long did it take for him to clean up? She hadn’t heard a sound out of the bathroom since he went in it. If he hadn’t left her side, she wouldn’t be feeling so damn uncomfortable right now. Like an intruder in his home. Why did he have to leave? Didn’t he know how close she was to running away and never seeing him again?
Then it hit her.
Maybe she was supposed to leave. Perhaps the “talk” would be him giving her his rehearsed speech about not wanting commitment, or a relationship. What if he was biding his time in there, staring at his fingernails and tapping his foot, hoping she would get the point and leave before he came out? Before he had to give her the talk? Maybe she should leave before he came back and had to politely inform her he wanted her out of his home.
In her defense, she had slept with two men her whole entire life. Two. Well, now three. How could she have done something like this? Swallowing back the rising panic, she scrambled for her purse, picked up her heels and rushed out of the bedroom. She didn’t stop running until she cleared the apartment and reached the elevator doors. Once she was safely inside, she stepped into her heels and leaned against the wall. Tears crept down her cheeks, and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. She’d acted so foolish and impetuously. She’d been completely out of character and out of her comfort zone. And worse yet?
She wanted to stay that way.
Chapter Five
The next evening, when the door closed behind the make-up artist, Justin picked up his journal and opened it on his lap. He wished he had someone he could ring to reassure him he wouldn’t fail—besides Gary. He had been alone for so long he didn’t even remember what it felt like to have a family. To be loved. He wished he had someone … anyone … who cared enough about him to hang with him backstage and calm him down.
But wishes were useless in the face of reality.
Anyone who would have sat backstage with him was across the pond or dead. So instead he scribbled down a few words in his journal—words no one else would ever read—and closed the cover. Then he dropped his head between his knees and took deep, steadying breaths. Blast it all to hell, he would be on stage in ten minutes and all he could manage to do was sit here thinking of all the ways he could and would fail. Before last night, he hadn’t thought he could feel any more miserable than he already had.