Page 72 of Enemies

Elle says, “He’s doing a hell of a good impression of caring about you.”

Her pointed words have that hopeful tingling starting up in my chest again.

Or maybe it’s the alcohol. I catch the eye of one of the attendants who tops me up without so much as a word.

Annie takes advantage of my distraction to continue the game. “Never have I ever… slept with someone ten years older.”

Elle drinks.

I freeze with my drink halfway to my lips, then lower it again.

“Seriously?” Elle screeches, loud enough to wake whatever bones have settled at the bottom of the ocean beneath us. “He’s smart, he’s rich, he’s the kind of gorgeous that only gets better with age… though I read men reach their sexual peak in their twenties.”

She looks to Annie for corroboration, and our friend lifts her hands, surrendering.

“If Tyler gets any better, I might not survive.”

I roll my eyes as Elle laughs and says, “Wait. How old is Harrison?”

They both pull out their phones before I can answer.

“He’s thirty-five,” Elle declares loudly.

“Thirty-five what?” a familiar British voice demands from behind me.

I swallow, shifting on my lounger to stare up at the man in shorts and a linen shirt, the top two buttons open.

“Nothing.” It’s the most innocent voice I can manage, and it’s terrible.

“How old you are,” Elle, the traitor, supplies. “Have you read that men’s sexual performance declines after their twenties?”

We’re joined by Tyler, who sinks onto Annie’s lounger and pulls her against him. Beck drops onto Elle’s, while Ash’s athletic gait carries him to the edge of the boat, where he leans against the railing.

“Patently false,” Harrison replies. “Men in their twenties have physical stamina but no subtlety. Women are intellectual creatures. You need mental stamina to please one.”

God, his mouth is beautiful. I want to trace it with my finger.

Then shove it between my thighs.

I take another sip of my drink, and the pleasant buzzing feeling intensifies.

We keep drinking and talking. Tyler shares stories from his tour while Beck presses Ash on his workout routine. Annie talks about pregnancy surprises and their plans to settle in LA once the baby arrives. Even Elle weighs in with cringe-worthy moments from a comedy competition she just finished.

It’s fun, until eventually everyone heads to bed.

“I think I’m drunk,” I mumble as strong arms carry me down the stairs.

“Indeed,” the person carrying me agrees, the word vibrating through his body and mine.

I scrunch up my nose. “What language are you even speaking?”

“That would be English.”

“That wood bee ingleesh,” I parrot.

I’m deposited on a soft surface, and I sigh as I force my eyes open.

Harrison’s over me, his shirt unbuttoned enough I can see the edge of his scars. His hair is sticking up, his expression amused and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen it.

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