"God no," I said.
"Good. Now, forgethim." He reached over to trace the side of my face with his warm fingers. "Let's talk about you. If I let you out of my sight, you're not gonna sneak off on me, are you?"
I grinned. "Not a chance."
"Good. Because I'm not kidding. You look amazing just the way you are."
I rolled my eyes.
After a quick glance at the door, he pulled me close and nuzzled my neck. "Seriously," he said. "I don’t want to leave you for one minute. But if I don't, he'll just come back, and then –" He shrugged.
"Then what?" I asked.
"Then, well, I'd have to kill him."
Chapter 26
In the shower, located off the main hallway upstairs, I couldn’t help but smile up into the cascade of hot water. The walk upstairs had been interesting, and that was putting it mildly.
To reach the main stairway, Lawton and I waded through an obstacle course of half-empty wine glasses, plates of half-eaten appetizers, discarded napkins, highball glasses, and bottles of beer in varied stages of emptiness.
When I'd asked why the previous room had been untouched, he told me it was off-limits to party guests.
"Really?" I'd said. "Then why'dwego in there? Is it because the rest of the place was trashed?"
"This?" He kicked aside an empty beer bottle as he led me by the hand. "You haven't seen trashed. Should've seen my place last New Year's Eve." He glanced around. "Different house. Same mess though. Times a hundred."
"So why was that first room off-limits?" I said.
"I guess, it's because," he said as if thinking it over, "no matter how many people are here, I like to keep some space private. Just in case."
"Oh." My stomach sank. "So, it's uh, for interludes?"
"Interludes?" He laughed. "Wasthatwhat I said?"
"Wasn't it?"
"No." He shook his head. "Definitely not. No interludes there."
"Well," I said in a teasing tone, "it's probably a good thing your friend came in when he did, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I explained, "you might've broken your own rule."
We'd been walking up the stairway, but at this, he stopped and faced me. "Except you're not an interlude." As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb lightly against the side of my palm. "You're something else."
His words, along with the feel of his skin on mine, even in this smallest way, sent a shiver of pleasure straight through me. I longed to ask him what, specifically, I was, if not an interlude.
"Mostly," he continued, "the room's an escape hatch."
"From what?" I asked.
"More like from who."
"Then who?" I said.
"Whoever."
