Page 32 of Rivals to Lovers
This moment felt stolen and precious. He tapped on the bathroom door. “Clothing delivery.”
She reached a bare arm out to snag them, and he slipped on his own pajamas. He hoped he had gotten her out of his system, but he would make sure of that by spending every second with her until they left. Tomorrow, real life resumed. In less than twelve hours, he would be driving her back to the city and to their normal lives and routines. Maybe their lives would change after this weekend.
Because of Estelle, not because of each other.
He was under no assumptions that a convenient weekend hookup would lead to something more, and honestly, he wasn’t really looking for a relationship. He was too busy. Two of his clients were set to go on submission this week to publishing houses. He was finalizing contracts for another two and in the process of wooing one more from the slush pile. And there was Ulla—as much as she had her own people, she called him frequently to talk, and that would only become more essential with the separation.
He thought back to a conversation with one of his clients who had just had a baby plus had a toddler at home. She told Wes that by the end of the day, she was “touched out.” She simply wanted no one to be setting a finger on her. He felt that way with his public face, with a set smile and firmhandshake and industry know-how. He wasonso much of the time that his home was an oasis from anyone needing him. He hadn’t enjoyed relationships for the past few years or pursued them because he hadn’t wanted the complication. He’d had some great hookups with nice people, but he didn’t need more than that. His social needs were fulfilled by a zillion different interactions daily, online and on the phone and—
Mo slid a hand up and down his arm. “Did you come around to my view of ice cream yet?” she asked in his ear. She nestled into him, spooning his body from behind. She was a little shorter than him, but being held felt good.
“Was that your goal here? Anti-gelato warfare?”
“I wasn’t trying hard enough,” she said.
Unsaid:thistime. Unsaid: if there was a next time.
In the breath before he flipped over and spooned her instead, he could almost hear her thinking about tomorrow too. He flicked off the light. “You staying?”
“Well, the walk back to my room is pretty dangerous.”
“I almost got eaten by a lion in the hallway getting your pajamas.”
“Right, Gary’s pet lion,” she murmured. She wiggled to move his arms lower on her torso. Suddenly, their bodies clicked. He closed his eyes. As he was starting to doze off, she said, “Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you seduce men and women differently?”
He laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve reallythoughtabout seducing anyone. It just kind of happens.”
“Come on, the whole hot tub thing was such a move,” she said.
“So you’re saying my moves work.”
She laughed. If he were being honest, he would tell her that he would have done anything to make her happy tonight. That he could see her tension radiate through her body from that last reading, felt like he had sensors tuned in to her alone. When they had gotten back upstairs, there’d been no seduction required. They worked together—him on her, her on him. Mouths and hands moving, both focused on each other. He didn’t think of himself as some lothario. “I’m good at knowing my audience.”
“When did you know you liked both men and women?” she asked. “My roommate Sloan is bi, and she told me that she knew in high school.”
He paused momentarily, squeezing her hips to tug her in closer. “I didn’t really know until college. I went to an all-boys boarding school growing up and always knew that attraction was there.” He was used to talking about this, with clients and on social media. He thought being open about sexuality was the least he could do as a gatekeeper in the publishing process, showing people who might still be closeted that there was a place for them. But it was different talking about this with someone he’d been intimate with and who wasn’t seeing him as an authority on anything except himself. “When I went to college, like a lot of people, I did some exploration and realized that I was also very much attracted to women.”
“Sorry if that was too personal. I think you’re the first man I’ve been with who has slept with men too.”
“That you know of,” he had to add.
“Oh, that’s true. It’s naïve, I know. I’m not really a country rube, I promise.”
“No, I don’t think that.” He rubbed a hand across her torso. “But writing my book was important to me, workingthrough the themes of closet culture, especially back in the Roaring Twenties. It’s not like gay people were invented in the 1970s or something. I’ve tried to actively search out projects that talk about gay history in literature, and I hoped my novel—sorry, I’m not trying to sell you on my book.”
She was quiet for a minute, long enough that he thought she might be asleep. “Is it weird that I really want to read the rest of it?”
Wes didn’t tell her that Gary had made a copy of her manuscript for him and that it was waiting in the bottom of his suitcase. Unlike her, his room was meticulously put together so she wouldn’t find out that secret. It seemed only fair that she should get a chance to read his as well, but he selfishly wanted to watch her reactions, know what she thought of it, even as he was hoping to read hers in the privacy of his room so he could take her in at his own pace. “No, that’s not weird.”
She paused again. He pictured her biting her lip, those perfect pink lips he’d bruised by kissing so ferociously. “I had a thought. What if we continued our readings? When we’re back in the city, but for us.”
He wanted her. He didn’t need to tell her that, and he never would. He’d gotten a night with her, and now he could just appreciate her work. Totally normal, friends with literary benefits. “I would like that. I mean, you have my number.”
“Right, from Friday when you picked me up,” she said.
