Chapter 54
“You can,” Colby decided loftily, “but we’re certainly doing that again. I approve.” He rolled his head to the side to watch Jason free his arm. He could’ve done it himself, but this felt nice, especially when Jason rubbed his wrist after.
* * * *
Colby’s wrist was graceful and tired and warm. The scarf had left a hint of pink from friction, but nothing that’d linger more than a few minutes. Jason rubbed those spots anyway. Marveled at the sheer fact of their existence.
Colby Kent. Stories. This hotel. The Aston Martin and tea and cake and a screenplay. Scarves in bed, which he’d never have guessed Colby’d ask for—or maybe not never, maybe someday, but it’d never been an expectation, and anyway they had all the incandescently awesome sex already. And thenan engagement. Or an understanding, at least. Christ. It’d been the best and wildest fantasy day of his life.