My climax is quick and intense, but as soon as I start to come down, Xavier coaxes another one from me, and it lasts until I go limp against him. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzles my cheek, an affectionate gesture that does funny things to my chest. “You okay?”
“I’m excellent.” I rub my thumb along the line of his jaw. “Thank you for that. Can I return the favor?”
I reach for him, but he stops my hand gently. “I’d better get back. I don’t want the producers getting suspicious.”
My post-orgasmic glow evaporates in a sharp pang of disappointment. “Okay.” I escort him back through the house. At the door, he gives my hand a quick squeeze and then is gone.
I close the door and lean against it, battling my suddenly-bleak thoughts. I got off so easily with him, when I couldn’t even bring myself the other night, but why was he in such a hurry to leave? He’s probably right about the producers, but I can’t shake the suspicion that he doesn’t really want me.
Gah. This stupid show is making me question everything. It’s driving me crazy.
The next day, we have another cocktail party, and the wardrobe people have me in a fun, flirty dress with a swirling skirt. I wish my mood matched my clothes, but my worries about Xavier are at the forefront of my mind as I survey the men.
The two Brads are the first to catch my eye. They look so happy together, like they’re lit up from within, and it lightens my mood immediately. No matter what happens with me, it looks like the show has produced at least one successful relationship.
I’m reluctant to disturb them, but I’m expected to talk to each of the men, so I join them. After a couple of minutes of aimless chitchat, I draw Brad M. aside. “Not to be a pest, but have you seen or heard anything more about Xavier?”
I expect Brad to smirk and tease me, as usual. Instead, he frowns, and fear is suddenly an icy weight in my stomach. “What?”
“I don’t have anything specific I can tell you. All I know is that Xavier seems to be talking to the producers a lot. More than the other men do, and more than seems necessary for just run-of-the-mill show stuff.”
He shrugs, still frowning. “Maybe it’s nothing – I haven’t been able to hear anything they say – but it makes me suspicious. Johnny used to talk to the producers a lot too.”
Damn it. I was hoping for reassurance, but now I’m afraid that Xavier’s visit was set up by the producers. But why wasn’t there a camera crew?
I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did. I’m suddenly relieved that Xavier didn’t let me reciprocate. But how am I supposed to be open to finding real love, if I can’t let myself be vulnerable with any of the men?
I’m so conflicted about Xavier. Everything feels so good, so right, when I’m with him, but then these doubts keep resurfacing. Maybe I should follow my first instinct, and send him home at the next ceremony.
Gerard interrupts my troubled thoughts. “Want to play a game?”
I force my fears aside, wave goodbye to Brad, and smile in response to the twinkle in Gerard’s eye. “What kind of game?”
He’s holding a small plate covered with a cloth. “Close your eyes,” he tells me. “Now open your mouth.”
A delicious morsel of food melts on my tongue. “Well?” he says.
“That tasted amazing. Um, let me think … shrimp paté on puff pastry?”
“Very good.” He sounds immensely pleased. “Here’s another one.”
“Mmm … focaccia bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic.”
“Two for two. Impressive.”
He feeds me a few more bites, and I manage to guess at least some of the ingredients for each of them. The final time I close my eyes, he surprises me with a sweet kiss. Gerard is definitely still on my list.
Marcus comes to find me next. “I missed you,” he says. “It hurts whenever we’re apart.” He’s so expressive, so open – the opposite of a bad boy. Life with him would be stable and steady, which is what I need.
“You look beautiful tonight.” His gaze is admiring, with a touch of heat. He’s easy to look at himself: tall and well built, with a firm jaw and a strong nose. Almost classically handsome, but not too good looking, like a movie star.
“You look good, too,” I tell him. He’s wearing a dress shirt that almost exactly matches his pale blue eyes.
“Thank you.” He leans in, smiling, and we kiss. As always, he’s a perfect gentleman, but there’s a touch more urgency this time, and I’m reminded that Marcus has hidden depths waiting to be uncovered.
Christian comes over, and we take a stroll across the yard. We haven’t had much chance to talk since the talent show. “I was truly impressed by your painting,” I tell him. “Do you often use live models?”