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“That’s what we wanted, isn’t it? Fun? Distraction? You said you didn’t want anything serious, but somewhere along the way, it got serious. So, let’s not allow that to happen.”
“Fun,” she repeated, frowning, as though the idea hadn’t occurred to her.
“Casual, easy, no-stress, no-strings fun.”
“But I have strings,” she reminded him. “I have a job and a toddler and an ex I’m about to be in a bitter fight with.”
“Then you need fun more than anyone.”
She shook her head and his confidence frayed. She was going to tell him to get out of her life. That he had no idea what it was like being her. She was going to walk away from him. His gut tightened in preparation for that. How would he cope? He had no idea.
“Fun,” she repeated, as though she was spinning the word around in her mind and seeing if it could fit. “Break it down for me,” she said, and to his relief, she walked deeper into the apartment, removed her handbag and shoes and strolled into his lounge room, so effortlessly graceful and sensually perfect that his whole body went immediately on alert.
But he wouldn’t mess this up by rushing things. Now was the time to talk, to get a new deal in place. Then they could both relax.
He moved with assumed nonchalance towards the fridge and removed a bottle of champagne. It might have been premature, but he popped it anyway and poured two glasses.
“I’ll come to New York at least every two weeks. I’ll give you notice, work in with your schedule. When I’m here, you can come stay with me. If you’d like to. Harper is welcome. In fact, I would like to see her, but I do understand your reservations there. I know you’re a single mom and I don’t want to stand on your toes.”
She bit into her lip. He crossed the tiled floor and handed her the champagne. She took it, eyes glancing up at him. His stomach dropped to his toes.
“When I’m here, we’ll keep it light.”
“Fun,” she repeated.
“We’ll eat out, use the spa, watch movies, walk around, go to bed. Did I say go to bed?”
A half-smile flickered on her lips, but her eyes were melancholy. “And then what?”
He had a vague idea what she meant but he asked the question anyway. “What do you mean?”
“When does it end, Leandro?”
“When we’re both ready for it.”
“When will that be?”
That was of course the flaw in his plan. He knelt down. “I don’t know, but I can tell you, I’m not ready now, and I don’t think you are either.”
“I’m not,” she admitted, and those two words felt as weighted and important as any wedding vow ever could. She felt as though she’d just admitted something huge and terrifying. But then again, he clearly already knew how she felt. At least he was admitting the same back to her.
Should she push for more? For him to open up to her? Or did she just need to accept that he would always be a closed book, and be grateful for what he was willing to share?
In the end, it wasn’t really a choice. She didn’t want to end this yet. She appreciated his honesty, how much he was leaving the choice up to her. She appreciated the gift of more time with him. Whatever came next, he was right. She’d always be grateful for having met him. He wasn’t going to be in her life forever, but he would always be the man who’d helped her heal after Jay. She still wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. To trust a man with her heart and life, but she was ready to open herself up to at least this form of happiness, to someone like Leandro, who was so different to any man she’d ever known. Who was worthy of trust, even if she wasn’t ready to give it.
She stood on legs that were a little shaky, and he did too, so they were close, their bodies only an inch or so apart.
“Okay,” she agreed.
His relief was palpable. His hand caught her cheek and she angled hers into it. He stroked her flesh with his thumb. Everything trembled inside Skye. Heaven. Fear. Need. Want. Longing. Lust. Everything.
“Okay?”
She nodded.
“Thank Cristo.” He sounded as though she’d just saved his life. “How long can you stay tonight?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I can stay all night. My mom knows I’m out. She’s in charge of Harps.”
