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"I understand, Sammy," she said, raising her hands as if he were pointing a metaphorical gun right at her chest. "You don't need to worry. I have everything under control."
Sammy studied her for another charged minute before breaking into a wide grin. "That's my girl. I knew I could count on you."
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of budget discussions and marketing strategies. Genevieve found herself operating on autopilot, her mind constantly drifting back to Eden and the mess she'd found herself in.
As she finally rose to leave, Sammy called out to her. "Oh, and Gen? Do try to relax a bit, won't you? You're wound tighter than a knock-off watch."
Genevieve forced a smile, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll take that under advisement," she replied dryly, before making her escape.
Once in the hallway, Genevieve let out a long breath, feeling as if she'd just run a marathon. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to centre herself.
What a tangled web she'd woven. Here she was, lying to her boss and pushing away the one person who'd made her feel trulyalive in years. All in the name of professionalism and artistic integrity.Was it worth it?
She thought back to Eden's performance that morning, the lack of spark, the hesitancy in her movements. It was a far cry from the passionate, uninhibited woman who'd writhed beneath her just a couple of nights ago. Had Genevieve done that? Had she freaked Eden out somehow? Pushed her too far out of her comfort zone?
Genevieve shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. No, she knew what it looked like when a woman was flying through ecstasy. Eden might be a brilliant actress, but nobody could fake that level of enjoyment if they weren’t having the time of their life. Whatever was bothering her, it couldn't be about the sex. If Eden said it had nothing to do with her, then Genevieve could trust her enough to believe it.
And yet, as she stood there in the empty hallway, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd made a terrible mistake. The memory of Eden's hurt expression that morning and the way she'd avoided the director's gaze . . . that gnawed at her.
Genevieve pulled out her phone, staring at Eden's contact information. Her thumb hovered over the screen, torn between the desire to reach out and the fear of pushing the boundaries she’d so vehemently insisted upon.
What would she even say? “Sorry I was such a bitch this morning. Want to come over and fuck?” Genevieve almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. How had she, Genevieve Howard, acclaimed director and notorious hard ass, found herself in this predicament? Not even sure how to compose a simple text message.
She thought back to that first steamy tryst in her office and the way Eden had looked at her with such trust, such openness. It had awakened something in Genevieve, something she'dthought long buried beneath years of ambition and self-imposed isolation.
And now? Now Genevieve was standing in a hallway, agonizing over whether or not to reach out, when Eden was clearly going through something. It was pathetic, really.
Genevieve straightened up, squaring her shoulders. No, she wouldn't let doubt consume her. Whatever was going on with Eden, it couldn't be anything that a good, hard fuck wouldn't solve.
With a decisive nod, Genevieve began composing a text.My place, 8pm. Wear something easy to remove.She hit send before she could second-guess herself, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
As Genevieve tucked her phone away and headed back toward her office, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. This was what she was good at - taking control and finding solutions. Eden might be thrown off her game, but Genevieve Howard was as sharp as ever.
She ignored the small voice in the back of her mind that whispered doubts, that suggested maybe, just maybe, she was using the sex as an excuse to hold Eden for another moment . . . to be there for her, even if she couldn’t share her struggles. Though if Eden wanted to lay them bare, of course Genevieve could comfort her, take care of her.
No. She wouldn't entertain such thoughts.
Genevieve didn’t need nor want anything deeper than the easy dynamic they’d already established.
After all, what were a few orgasms between friends? The two of them already had the perfect solution to any worries thrown their way. No strings and no expectations. Just pure, unadulterated pleasure.
As she settled back into her office chair, Genevieve allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Yes, this would work out justfine. Eden would come over, they'd fuck until they couldn't see straight, and tomorrow everything would be back on track.
She turned her attention to the stack of papers on her desk, pushing thoughts of soft skin and golden curls to the back of her mind. She had work to do, and Genevieve Howard always got her work done.
Let Eden figure out her personal life in her own time and space. Genevieve would be ready and waiting to fuck her anxieties right out of her system. And if a small part of her thrilled at the thought of holding Eden close again, of tasting her lips and hearing her desperate, tender moans . . . well, that was nobody's business but her own.
12
EDEN
Eden's phone buzzed, startling her from the script she'd been half-heartedly reviewing. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Genevieve's name on the screen. With trembling fingers, she opened the message.
My place, 8pm. Wear something easy to remove.
A rush of conflicting emotions washed over her. Excitement, anxiety, and a deep, aching longing all vied for dominance. Eden stared at the text, her mind racing. Should she go? Could she trust herself to maintain the façade of casual indifference when every fibre of her being yearned for more?
Eden paced her bedroom, phone clutched tightly in her hand. The rational part of her brain screamed that this was a terrible idea. She was already in too deep, her feelings for Genevieve growing stronger with each passing day. But another part of her, the part that craved Genevieve's touch like a drug, whispered that she could handle it. That she could bury her emotions and simply enjoy whatever stolen moments they could share.
