64.
I pull his fluffy duvet over our heads, cocooned in darkness.
"Did you mean what you said?" I whisper.
"When?"
"That day in my office."
I see you.
Think about you.
Want you.
"I meant it. Every word. Does that clear things up?"
"I've worked there for three years," I say. A little longer. Started right after my thirtieth birthday.
"And?"
"I'm pointing out we've had plenty of time to get to know one another. It wasn't only my choice, like you said."
"Until I overheard you talking about me last week, Bella, I wasn't aware you knew I existed."
65.
"That's absurd. Your family owns the company. Of course, I knew—"
"I know you knew of me. I'm not deluded. But…"
His warm, rough hand grips my hip, pulling me flush with his naked body.
A flutter.
"But what?" I push, desperate to hear him continue, reveling in this rare openness.
"Hearing you talk about me? I'd willingly take your hate over indifference."
"I shouldn't have said that stuff about you." Guilt gnaws. "I'm sorry." Long overdue.
He leans in for a sweet kiss.
I'm forgiven.
"I know I'm a difficult man."
When I don't disagree, he laughs a little.
66
"I'm difficult, too," I amend with a kiss, pulling the blanket off our heads. "Also… I'm staying the night."
It's late. I don't want to leave.
He buries his face in my neck. "Good."
"You're supposed to fight me on this. Be mean or something so we can argue a little."
His eyes shine. "Is that what gets you off? Fighting with me?"
"Maybe."
"What if I said you're not going anywhere?" He rolls over, lying between my legs, pinning my arms above me. "Gonna keep you in this bed forever."
"I wish."
"No more fighting," he whispers, earnest. "Okay?"