Page 62 of Summer of Our True Colours

And me? I smiled the whole damn way to the bar, watching her sway that arse from left to right in that tiny silver dress I was determined to peel off with my teeth at some point later that night.

Chapter Nineteen

Phoebe

Ididn't know whether to be impressed with myself for no longer caring, or to be disappointed for my lack of willpower since it was obvious my no man rule was flying straight out of the nearest window.

All because of the man-stud who strolled up beside me at the bar a few seconds later.

One look at him, though, and those worries drifted to the back of my mind like he held some kind of spell over all my morals, doubts, and fears. The simple, black fitted T-shirt he wore hugged every one of his muscles, making me practically salivate, but even that had nothing on the expression he wore as he looked at me like I’d become the only thing to exist in this room. Like he had no concept of anyone else around us. As though it was just him and me, side by side, waiting for the perfect time for one of us to make the first move.

“Do you think we pulled that off?” I asked, just for something to say, because this was the first time we'd been alone since his proposition on the beach, and I suddenly became hyperaware of exactly what that proposition consisted of.

Forbidden sex.

With him.

More than once.

“I think you make it easy for them to believe you hate me, yeah,” he answered.

“Good. I mean... not good like that but... you know. Good as in they won't know what's going on. I didn't mean that I actually hate you or?—”

“Phoebe?”

“Hmm?”

“Breathe.”

“Right.” I blew out a nervous breath, trying to remember the last time I'd felt so on edge. Until now, lying hadn't come too naturally to me. It wasn't something I'd ever aspired to be good at. But suddenly, with Henry at stake, I kinda wished I’d have practiced a little more throughout my life to make sure I could pull the odd lie off when I needed to. “So, what's the plan?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“I... I don't know. It's not like I do this all the time.”

“Me neither.”

“Are we being stupid here? Is this really worth the risk?”

“Of what?”

“Us, you know, upsetting people. Andy for one.”

“Fuck Andy.”

I blinked up at him, surprised by how relaxed he seemed. Since meeting Henry, his whole persona had been aloof, carefree, and to be frank, arrogant as hell. Now, though, he not only looked but sounded different, as though this was the real Henry Cohen he kept hidden away from the rest of the world.

He slowly trailed his eyes up and down my body, taking his time to soak every inch of me in, and all I could think about as I watched him was just how easily it would be to become addicted to that kind of attention from someone like him.

Someone who didn’t dish it out so freely.

“You really do look incredible tonight,” he said.

I was about to tell him he didn't look so bad himself when the barman came over to take our order, pulling Henry's attention away from me, leaving me standing beside him, my skin hot and flustered, part relieved to not be under his study anymore, part missing the way he made me feel when he’d looked at me that way.

Henry ordered six bottles of beer, and when the barman handed them over to us, we each took three, with Henry paying the entire bill without even asking me if I wanted to chip in.

“Thank you,” I told him, about to turn to take my half of the order back to the guys.

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