A knowing smirk worked its way onto my mouth, but it quickly faded when we turned off the lights and climbed into bed, making sure to stay as far apart as possible.
It wasn’t enough.
The California king was large enough to host a small orgy, but Vivian was still too close. Hell, I could be sleeping in the bathtub with the door closed and she’dstillbe too close.
Her scent stole into my lungs, blurring the usually crisp edges of my logic and reasoning, and her presence burned into my side like an open flame. The murmurs of our breaths overlapped in a heavy, hypnotic rhythm.
It was half past eleven. I could reasonably wake up at five.
Six and a half hours.I could do this.
I stared at the ceiling, my jaw tight, while Vivian turned and tossed. Every dip of the mattress reminded me she wasthere.
Half-naked, close enough to touch, and smelling like an apple orchard after a morning rainstorm.
I didn’t evenlikeapples.
“Stop it,” I ground out. “Neither of us will get any sleep if you insist on moving around like that all night.”
“I can’t help it. My brain is…” She blew out a breath. “I can’t sleep.”
“Try.” The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner I could relax.
Relatively speaking.
“What great advice,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. You should start a Dear Dante column in the local newspaper.”
“Were you born with a smart mouth, or did your parents buy it for you after their first million?”
Vivian let out a sardonic breath. “If my parents had their way, I wouldn’t say anything exceptyes, of course,andI understand.”
A twinge of regret softened my aggravation.
“Most parents want obedient children.”Except mine, who don’t want children at all.
“Hmm."
It struck me that Vivian knew more about my family dynamics than I did hers, which was ironic considering she was the more open one in our relationship. I rarely discussed my parents, both because the gossip mills churned overtime and because my relationship with them was nobody’s business, but there was something about Vivian that pulled reluctant admissions and long-buried secrets out of me.
“Are your parents upset we’re not celebrating Thanksgiving with them?” I asked.
“No. We’re not big on the holiday.”
Of course. I knew that.
More silence.
Moonlight spilled through the curtains and splashed liquid silver across our sheets. The A/C hummed in the corner, a quiet companion to the thunder rumbling in the distance. The sense of an impending rainstorm snuck past the windows and soaked the air.
It was the type of night that lulled people into drowsy disclosures and deep sleeps.
For me, it had the opposite effect. Energy buzzed like a live wire under my skin, heightening all my senses and setting me on edge.
“How much did your family change after your father’s business took off?”
We’d touched on the topic after our engagement shoot, but she hadn’t gone in depth about it beyond the arranged marriage expectations.
Since neither of us could sleep, I might as well try to get some intel out of Vivian. Plus, the conversation kept my mind off other, more impure thoughts.