Just the thought of that has me half hard. Diana is nothing like I expected. I may have pulled her out of the river, but she’s the one saving my ass.
“My parents are coming over at seven for dinner. Told them I’d cook.”
“You cook?”
This time I roll my eyes and laugh. “Why does everyone think that I can’t cook?”
“I didn’t say that.” She looks amused. “I just asked.”
“I can cook. Promise.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
Later that evening, after I run to the store and grab stuff for an easy dinner, Diana does follow through on her promise to help. Not only that, but we move around my small kitchen in sync like we’ve been doing it for years. When I cut, she stirs. And when she steps away to put together a salad, I take over the stove.
Diana notices. Neither of us says anything, but there’s a synergy that can’t be ignored. It’s actually shocking how seamlessly Diana fits into my life. Like she was meant to be here.
The thought makes me pause. How could everything change in just a few days? I went from not wanting a relationship at all because I didn’t have time, to just wanting something casual with Diana because of chemistry. To needing a fake relationship in order to survive, and now the fake relationship is making me think that being in one might not be so bad. And even further, that I might not want this to end right away.
It could be just the amazing sex that’s blinding me—Diana and I have a chemistry that’s too good to waste—but it doesn’t feel like that’s all it is. When this thing with my parents is over, I’m going to ask her on a date. A real and actual date that doesn’t have my business on the line or us owing each other anything.
The dinner goes well, for all that I’m paying attention to it. I’m locked in my head, shocked at this revelation, and I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of Diana and me being real. And how much I like that idea.
I know I speak, but for the life of me I can’t recall anything I said. Diana laughs and charms my parents, and in between that, she looks at me. She knows something is up, but she doesn’t say anything. Just places her hand over mine and rubs her thumb over the back of it. Casually. I want to pull her into my lap just to have her there.
What is going on with me?
I focus long enough on the conversation to learn more about Diana. She talks about her work as a graphic designer and her friends, and with every word I realize that I want to know this woman.
The feelings in my gut are far too deep for me to acknowledge. Because things like this don’t happen this fast. They don’t.
By the time my parents leave, they’re smiling, and my mom is making plans to take Diana to lunch later in the week. My father is looking at me with approval. This has gone better than I ever hoped it could, and that’s all because of Diana.
She closes the door behind my parents, and we’re left in the dim entryway, pressed together because of the narrow hallway. Diana puts her hands on my chest. Slides them up to my shoulders like the most natural thing in the world. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice dry. “I’m good.”
“You just didn’t say much during dinner. I was worried because you were so quiet.”
I’m looking down at her, and even in the dark she’s so fucking beautiful that I can’t breathe. “You were amazing. I didn’t need to say anything.”
Di laughs softly. “I think that they might actually like me.”
“They do.” But I’m not focused on my parents anymore. I’m focused on her lips and the way that she’s leaning into me.
Leaning down, I kiss her. Long, slow, and deep. I’m fully aware that this isn’t an ordinary kiss, and I hope she knows that too. The air charges around us, and I pull her back toward the bedroom. “I’ll deal with the dishes in the morning.”
She’s already undressing. “That’s fine with me.”
12
Diana
Waking up sore and satisfied feels like a déjà vu. But this time I’m alone in bed and there’s the scent of pancakes in the air. My stomach growls. Leo and I worked up a ferocious appetite together before falling asleep. No wonder I’m hungry.
It’s late, nearly noon, and I have no regrets. After all, I’m on vacation, right? Nothing says vacation like sleeping late and amazing sex.
Leo’s t-shirt from yesterday is on the floor, and I put it on. It’s so big that I’m swimming in it, but I don’t care. It’s infused with that woodsy smell that’s just him. His sheets are covered in it, and it’s like being wrapped in his arms. I don’t put on anything else, the shirt dropping half-way to my knees.