Page 104 of Things I Overshared
“That sounds like a personal problem.” He sighs, and I laugh. If someone had tried to tell me four weeks ago that I’d be in bed with Emerson Clark and he’d bekidding around with me, I would’ve choked on my disbelief.
“Honestly, I think my boobs are actually better than hers,” I say, then laugh again.
“Absolutely,” he says with another squeeze, and he laughs too.
It turns out I have no trouble falling asleep with his hand there.
Chapter 32
“So, what do I do?!” I whisper to Sadie’s face on the screen as I circle the suite’s small dining table, exasperated.
“Back way up and slow way down. You just breezed on by the wholeEmerson and I are kind of togethernowthing! My brain cannot even. So, after all the tension, and he almost kisses you at convention, which I cannotbelieveyou didn’t tell me, you fall in fake love at his parents’ house, which, um, that isthemost rom-dot-com thing I’ve ever heard, I love it. Then you talk, and he admits it’s real, and you hook up but not really, then he books you the most romantic suite in Paris, and then you just go back to work as usual?”
“Well, no.” I move to the couch and plop down. “Not as usual. I mean, during our meetings we’ve been completely professional—no one would suspect. And we make a killer team. I saw it before, but it’s even more obvious now, how well we work together.”
“Never would’ve guessed.”
“Right! So the meetings are the same except he’s playful sometimes, like he’ll grab my ass when he knows the customer can’t see, and last night at the dinner, he started to put his hand up my skirt! With Penn Marin sitting right across from me!”
“See . . .” Sadie begins, and I look down to my phone and catch her biting her lip like a creepo. “This is where I want details. I need a play-by-play of the hand up the skirt. Did he slide all the way to home base?”
“No, he just teased me until I almost fainted. That’s all the play-by-play you’re getting. And then at night when we get home, he is totally spent, like I suspected before. If we do talk at all, it’s in the mornings, because by the end of a day of meetings and dinner, he is like a zombie. Of course, not so much a zombie that we don’t fool around, just enough that he can’t form complete sentences.”
“Does he ever form complete sentences?”
“Touché. Oh! Did I tell you he speaks fluent French?” I flop back on the couch. “I mean, damn it all. How any of my panties have survived the raging inferno in my crotch this entire trip is beyond me.”
“Wow. Now you decide to get graphic.”
“Focus!” I sit back up, moving my brain from Emerson’s French back to the matter at hand. “So, we’ve had days of Parisian bliss, basically. But I could tell a headache was coming on, so I tried to be helpful. Closed all the curtains, made tea, made a cold compress, offered to find him some meds. But he got angry, like really angry, at me. For trying to help.”
“Hmmm.” Sadie pauses. “Why do you think he’s angry at you and not just in pain?”
“Uhhh because I said ‘I’m just trying to help’ and he barked back at me ‘If you want to help, please Samantha, leave!’”
She sucks air through her teeth, wincing. “Were you badgering him?”
“No, I hadn’t even said anything, I was just bringing that stuff in, the compress, the tea, and I asked about his pills, and he let out one of his heavy sighs, and that’s when I said I was trying to help.”
“Okay, so then he wants or needs to be alone when he’s sick. That’s not the worst thing, and it’s not fair to expect him to be Mr. Congeniality when he’s fighting off a migraine. Now you know, so next time, steer clear. And leave him alone the rest of the night.”
“Do you think I should sleep on the couch?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I would.”
“K.”
“So, the fooling around? How is it?”
“I can’t even describe it in words. It’s never been like this. And I’m not just talking about the world-altering orgasms, either. The intensity and vulnerability between us—it’s like, well, I mean . . .”
“Like love,” she finishes for me.
“Yes . . . is that insane? Am I just going all heart eyes all over again?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. You’re different about this, about him. For sure. And you’ve had weeks together in a pressure cooker, reeeeally getting to know each other. Plus, you’ve already kinda known each other for over a decade.”
“Ugh.” I throw my head into my free hand. “I just don’t want to screw this up this time.”
