Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(58)

“He was just someone who was talking to me.” I lean forwards. “I am married. You may not want to be, but the fact remains that until you sign those papers, I am still married, and my ring will stay on my finger and my dick in my pants.”

“So, you’ve not been with anyone?” he asks, eyes wide with blatant astonishment.

“Have you?” The words shoot out, harsh and guttural.

His eyes are turbulent, but I see the moment he decides to tell the truth and I’m slumping in relief before he even speaks.

“No, I haven’t,” he says quietly. “I couldn’t.”

“Well, neither could I.” I wait a moment before saying hesitantly, “We have things to talk about, you and I, but maybe we could do that as friends?”

Lively curiosity blooms in his face. “Friends?”

“Why not? I like you, Joe.” He’s not ready to hear about my love for him yet. “We might have had a very passionate and short-lived relationship, but I could never have got married to someone who bored the shit out of me.” I want us to get to know each other without sex clouding the issue and I might never get this chance again. “So… friends. What do you think?”

He eyes me, biting his full lower lip. The sight is erotic, but I ignore those feelings.

“I can do that.”

“Well okay,” I say, exhaling slowly. I nod a couple of times before realising I look like a nodding dog on the backseat of a car and make myself stop. We exchange warm glances, but the surprisingly sweet moment is broken when he yawns.

“Come on,” I say, standing up. “Into bed.”

He grumbles but obeys me, and I pull the covers back so he can climb in. I fuss with the duvet, making sure he’s warm, and then give in to the irresistible urge to push his hair back. The strands are damp and heavy, and I want to stay here touching him so much it’s a sweet pain. I drop my hand and step away.

He blinks up at me. “Where are you going?” His voice is already sleepy, and the shadows under his pretty eyes are even more noticeable than earlier. I’d be prepared to bet he’s been burning the candle at both ends since we split up, and probably other ends too.

“I’m going to make up a bed on the sofa.”

“What?” He struggles up on his elbows. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

I stare at him, my heart starting to hammer. “I thought you’d want it that way.”

“Of course not. Lachlan, we’ve shared a bed loads of times.”

“Not like this.” I don’t know why I’m arguing when he’s offering me something I’ve dreamt about since he walked away from me.

“No obviously not, but I’m pretty sure we can share this one without leaping on each other.”

I’m not, but I keep that fact to myself. “Are you sure?” I ask, even though I don’t want him to rethink this. Being in the same bed, to have his skin and body a finger’s width away, would be heaven.

He settles back against the pillow. “I’ll be asleep in a few minutes anyway.”

His eyelids droop, dark lashes shadowing his cheeks. His skin is a warm, golden brown against the white sheets. He’s everything I want and can’t have.

“I’m going to have a shower,” I mutter.

His eyes fly open. “Okay,” he says in a low voice, settling in again. I walk towards the bathroom and pause when he says, “Lachlan.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for sharing your room.” His smile is so sweet it makes my heart hurt.

“You’re very welcome,” I mutter.

I slip into the bathroom and lean against the door. My dick is heavy, throbbing with a pulse that echoes in my heart. Usually, I wouldn’t hesitate to take care of it, but I don’t want to do that now. I don’t want to dilute this feeling, because it may be the last time I have it with Joe. I want to feel everything, whether it be good or bad. I grimly turn the shower to cold and strip off my clothes.

When I come out shivering, the room is quiet, and Joe is a still length in the bed. I creep around, trying to open a drawer quietly, so I don’t wake him. Dropping my towel, I step into a pair of boxers. They’ll have to do. I always sleep naked, so I don’t have any pyjamas.

“You’ve lost weight.”

I spin around. Joe is watching me. His eyes are slumberous and full of unmistakable heat. His gaze tracks my body avidly. My dick kicks in my shorts, and he licks his lips.

I try to remember what he was saying. “I guess.” I stop to clear my throat. “I haven’t been hungry lately.”

“Not because of me?” The desire in his eyes is replaced by concern.

My eyes get hot. “No of course not,” I lie. “I’ve just been very busy at work.”

“You need to pace yourself,” he says disapprovingly. He settles back into his pillows. “This is novel.”

“What is?”

“You wearing underwear in bed.”

“Nothing is pleasurable about that,” I say repressively.

He chuckles—a warm noise that will always make me smile.

“This is a bit like one of those Hollywood films from the forties,” he observes chattily.

“Why? Did they not wear underwear either?”