Page 70 of One Life to Loathe

“It’s not my fault you’re too tall.”

“Maybe you’re too short.” He poked my belly, then sobered. “I liked it when you climbed me. That’s what I kept thinking about all day yesterday when I was trying to wipe the images from my head of what we’d done.”

“I kept thinking about that thing you did with your tongue.”

His expression took on a roguish quality. “You liked that, did you?”

“I liked all of it. That was the problem. I lost myself for a little bit.”

“That’s why you’re so determined to have this conversation,” he said. “You don’t want to lose yourself again.”

“Actually, it’s the exact opposite. Idowant to lose myself. I’m hoping, by the time we’re finished, we’ll be okay saying goodbye.”

“What if we’re not?”

“You’re moving on. We both know it.” I had to be practical about this. “I’m sure it will hurt a little, but hurting now seems like a losing proposition.”

“Maybe the show will be such a hit that you won’t even care that I’m gone,” he mused.

That seemed unlikely. “Maybe. I say we worry about that later. I know that you’re going to leave—and I’ll keep that to myself—and you know that I’m staying. We’ll just have to figure it out.”

He stared into my eyes for a long time, not saying anything.

“Are you going to say something?” I challenged.

“I was just wondering if you were done talking about the serious stuff.”

“I guess. Why? Are you hungry?”

“Oh, I’m hungry.” He turned wolfish as he rolled me to my back and loomed over me. “I’m ready to figure our morning out.”

“Oh.” That sounded fun. “I don’t have scenes with you until this afternoon. Two. I start at ten o’clock with coven scenes.”

“So, we’ll have anticipation working on our side.” He smoothed his hand over my ribcage. “I think we would be okay letting the others know—in fact, it’s likely at least a few of them are going to figure it out—but I get why you don’t want to do this publicly.”

“It will be too much,” I said. “I’ll crumble when you’re gone, when I’m the only one here being asked about you being gone and you’re off living your best life.”

“I don’t like it when you paint the picture that way, of me leaving you behind.”

“Oh, you won’t be leaving me behind,” I assured him. “We’ll just be working for different things. Who knows? Maybe, after you have four failed marriages and are sick of action movies, you might visit Salem again in thirty years and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”

“Why will I have four failed marriages?”

“You’ve met yourself.”

He laughed again. “What about you? How many failed marriages will you have?”

“None. I’m not saying I’ll have a successful marriage, but I have no interest in getting married unless I know it’s forever. I might be so picky that you come back and find me a spinster.”

“See, that sounds fun to me.”

“It would.”

He lowered his mouth to mine. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over mine. “I won’t be able to live with that.”

“We’re going to do our very best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“What if our best isn’t enough?”

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