Page 22 of The Square

“Yup.”

I laugh, I can’t help it. “Mind-reader much?”

He shrugs. “Did you not like it?”

“I loved it,” I say.

“Any more questions?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Good. Now it’s my turn. Where the fuck is Alec?”

I consider this, trying to decide how to answer that question. “We’re gonna go to LA, then get on a plane and head to London.”

“Oh,” he says.

I nod. “Yeah.”

We’re both smiling now. Caught up in the shorthand two people have when they know each other so well, words almost aren’t necessary.

Except… we don’t really know each other, do we?

And even though there are a billion questions hanging in the air between us right now, and even though we’ve made up our own answers for all of them, we’re never going to ask or answer those questions.

He places his hands on the top of my thighs, sliding them up and under my shirt until he’s palming my breasts.

I close my eyes and think…

Maybe we’ll get stuck on ocean time?

Maybe it’s not so bad to be two?

He pinches my nipples. Hard. And I suck in a breath. I feel the heat stirring inside me. The throbbing that begins between my legs.

We both know how we’re going to spend the next week.

It’s going to be sex, and eating, and maybe some swimming if we want to drag this trip out a little longer.

But one thing we will not do is talk about the questions.

I don’t know how I know this. Call it intuition. Or maybe I’m just picking up the obvious leftovers from the non-existent conversation we just had? Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part.

Who knows?

Who cares?

Because I’m right.

Because he lifts the t-shirt over my head and tosses it aside.

Because he lowers his lips to my breasts and begins to nibble.

Because he slips a finger between my legs, pulls my panties aside, and plays with my clit.

Who cares?

I have him, like this, all to myself, the good and the bad… and I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of it for as long as I can.