The idea of Sebastian and her together was one I steadfastly did not allow my brain to conjure or else, I knew, it would be all I thought of.
But he was attracted to her and for some reason, he had decided that instead of dating her, he would offer her up on a silver platter tome, the man who had wronged him so terribly ten years ago.
Why?
The question plagued me, one of many that kept me up at night lately and left me irascible in the morning.
No matter the reason, I couldn’t afford to enter into a sexual agreement with Linnea, even if she was interested, without potentially hurting Seb.
And I had promised myself a long time ago, if I ever had the opportunity to have him in my life once more, I would do everything in my power never to injure him again.
“Which is your favourite film you ever shot?” Linnea interrupted my thoughts. “Will you tease me if I say I loved you as Lord Byron? I’ll never forget the way you delivered that line ‘And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.’”
A thin smile claimed my mouth as I thought of its relevance to my own life. “He was certainly one of my favourite characters, perhaps because of our shared love of hedonism.”
Linnea’s laugh was an abrupt cough of disbelief as she side eyed me. “You? A hedonist? No offense, Adam, but you look like you haven’t had a good orgasm in half a decade, and with a body like that, I highly doubt you’re indulging in anything sinfully delicious.”
She was right, in a way.
I didn’t indulge in rich foods very often. I’d mostly given up drinking because of the pit of despair I’d fallen into after Sebastian and Savannah were gone, and for the last number of years, even though I’d joined an exclusive BDSM club in LA, even my sexual hedonism had felt rote.
But that didn’t mean I had stopped yearning for the pursuit of pleasure.
My attraction to her was a case in point.
“Maybe I’m such a curmudgeon, as you say, because I haven’t had enough pleasure in my life lately,” I admitted, grateful for the sunglasses obscuring my eyes when Linnea studied me as we waited in traffic.
“Well,” she said after a moment. “We’ll have to fix that along with your reputation, won’t we, Mr. Meyers?”
Fuck, the sound of that—Mr. Meyers—was electric.
I swallowed thickly. “Unfortunately, the two cannot comfortably co-exist.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” Her grin was as bright as the sun reflecting off the ocean to my right. “I think today is a good start.”
“What the bloody hell have you signed us up for?”
Her laugh caught in the wind as she accelerated forward, swerving into the fast lane around a slow-moving van. “Tell me your favourite film to shoot.”
“The Devil Cares,” I said.
The movie I’d prepped and shot while living with Sebastian and Savannah. It would always be special to me for those moments I’d spent running my lines with Sebastian, Savvy’s little feet in my lap while we relaxed in the living room after a long day of work. How Seb would grill me when I was just in the door about every aspect of production while pouring me a glass of wine, running a hand through my hair, or squeezing my shoulders as if he wanted to comfort me after hours of playing an emotionally taxing role. How—for a few sparkling, perfect months—both my wife and my lover had seemed incandescently in love with me.
The shoot itself had been good, with a great DoP and director, top-caliber co-stars, and, of course, the Oscar I’d received for my performance had been a career highlight.
But it was that collection of little, intimate moments with my loved ones that lived perfectly preserved between the pages of my life like dried flowers.
My attention was caught as we pulled off the highway and almost immediately into a parking lot before a long, low industrial building. To the left and behind the structure, I could see a handful of relatively small planes.
“Linnea,” I said, slow and low, a dangerous rumble. “What did you sign us up for?”
When I looked over, she had already taken off her seatbelt and was leaning forward to plant one hand on my thigh while the other popped the mechanism on my belt open. Her large eyes were a deep purple-blue, like crushed açai berries. Her lashes were long and curly. For a moment, I forgot entirely about my apprehension and wondered if it would be the worst mistake in the world to kiss her.
“Day one of Linnea’s trusty guide to the pursuit of pleasure,” she announced, tongue in cheek. “Today’s theme? Thrill seeking.”
“Hiya, Lins,” an Australian man called as the door to the business slammed behind him, raising a hand to us. “It’s lookin’ like a crackin’ day to take a sky dive.”
“Fuckno,” I snapped.
