“I amnotopen for that business,” he assures me, and I can’t help but snicker.
“You are awfully defensive of your sexuality, Caleb. Any secret you want to share? Maybe I’ll see if Jas wants to fly in for the weekend. He loves to be the test for straight men. I think it’s an ego thing when he actually turns them.” I giggle through my words as Caleb’s expression turns from confused to astonished; he is completely speechless. We both step into the elevator, and I swipe the room key and select our floor, letting the doors close.
“I’m not gay,” he whispers to me.
“I just don’t care,” I whisper back.
“Not that it would matter if I was.” He clears his throat.
“Exactly.” I heave a breath, turning to look at him. “Look, at least if there is an extra cot, if you go out with Noah or whatever and you want to bring a girl home, or if I end up out and want to bring a guy home, there is extra room.” I wave a hand at him, but before I can look away, he spins his body to stand in front of me, his playfulness gone and he looks so…hurt?
“I’m not bringing a girl back, Rosie.” His eyes dart between mine. “The whole point of sharing the room was to get as much time withyouas possible.” I can’t read his expression. His brows are furrowed, a deep crease between them, and his jaw looks like it aches from how hard it’s clenched.
I almost gulp, not liking how intensely he looks at me, or the way my body reacts, how my heart hammers against my chest and my breathing quickens. I clear my throat, holding onto my mask for dear life. “Well, you know how it is. You don’t know where a night may take you, so it’s just a fail-safe.” He shakes his head slowly, moving closer. I move back.
“You’re not listening.”Ooooo. His voice has dropped to that octave that makes me want to strip my clothes off. “I’m not seeing other people.”
“This weekend?” The words are more breathy than I’d have liked, but Caleb does this to me. It’s why I needed space from him, because too long with this kind of intensity and I almost believe that I can enjoy all the mushy things my brain pictures. Space lets me realize that I can’t have those things. Space allows me to have reason and understand that we can’t be more than exactly what we already are.
“No, Rosie.” He takes a breath, his eyes briefly closing as though to compose himself, and then those deep, stormy eyesare locked and loaded with so much intensity I edge back another step.
He steps forward.
“At all. I’m not seeing or sleeping with anyone else, and I haven’t in two months.”
“What?” I don’t understand, he’s Caleb Smith, a playboy.Theplayboy. There is no way he’s only been sleeping with me. I mean…I’ve also only been sleeping with him. BUT that’s because I’m busy as fuck and absolutely not because I can’t get him out of my head.
“You heard me.”
“Why?” Why am I torturing myself, more like.
“Because no one is you.” What…is happening right now?
I put some distance between us, he closes the gap. And then I’m caged against the elevator wall.
“Not how I wanted to say this. At all.” He closes his eyes again, heaving a heavy breath before he opens them and nods, more to himself than me. I struggle to get a breath down because he is looming over me. Without heels on, which I wear more often than not, I am significantly shorter, and it makes him seem so…big.So much…man. “I don’t want us to be nonexclusive anymore. I hate sharing you.”
Breathe, girl. Just breathe.
It’s just another man, with more pretty words, more ways to control you. He doesn’t care about the real you, he?—
“I hate being a secret, I want you all to myself and I don’t want to hide it anymore.” Yeah, that’ll do it. I press a hand to the center of his chest and push, and he takes the steps backward and allows the distance. I feel every new feeling he elicits from me fall and hide away in the little lockbox at the back of my mind. The welcomed and familiar feeling of gray hollowness covers me like a cloak, and I let my fake smile show.
He wants what he can’t have, whatwecan’t have. It wouldn’t matter if I wanted the same—which, obviously, I don’t—we simply can’t have it.
I barely move my head, but the message, I hope, is clear.No.I can see him about to step into me again, but the elevator doors open at our floor,thank God.I grab my suitcase and step around him, leaving the elevator. It’s only a beat and then I hear him behind me. I don’t even know what to say to that. Because the sex is, like…the best I’ve ever had. I’m not about to dive into a spiral of how well I know the bachelors of New York, but I’m well versed in what that city has to offer, and when I tell you that Caleb Smith is top fucking tier, you know I ain’t lying. Impressive cock aside, the man has depth. He’s fun, entertaining, serious when he needs to be, intelligent, and quite successful. I know he’s done well for himself, based on his apartment and clothing selections…and?—
“Hold on, is this the presidential suite?” I point at the only door in the short hallway. I barely batted an eye when I selected the top level.
“It is,” he says from directly behind me, his tone giving away nothing.
Okay…so he’s got a credit card he is going to be paying down for the next five years…or he does a lot better for himself than I ever realized.
“You paid for the most expensive suite for three nights.” I turn and see his look of frustration morph into that of annoyance.
“Is it really so hard to believe? Did you not have a Rolls and a driver booked to pick you up from the airport?”
“But you flew coach?” I point out, because I mean, make it make sense.
