Chapter 34

Hayden

We're backto stolen moments fitted into the cracks of time that we can carve out. But I don't press for more, as much as I want to. I'm playing the long game now.

I know Victoria's shown Mia the pictures of her work, but only because Mia told me she finally got them from her. Part of me wants to ask Victoria about it, but after the conversation at her place, I know better than to push right now. I have to trust that she'll tell me about it when she's ready.

Maybe it's just because she's still so busy with the film on top of her normal responsibilities that she doesn't have the time to really give it the thought and consideration it deserves? Or maybe she doesn't really realize what a game-changer this could be for her. For us.

Though after her reaction when I brought up "us" that Friday night, I'm a lot less confident that she wants there to be an us after I'm gone. Sometimes I think so. She acts like she wants to be with me. She says she likes me, likes spending time with me, and we still talk on the phone almost every night regardless of how much time we've gotten together during the day. She tells me about her day at the dentist office—her boss sounds like a pompous blowhard, and I know enough about those to recognize one without interacting with him directly—and the things she does with her daughter. In turn, she asks about my day, listening to all the ins and outs of working on a film that most people don't know about. Honestly, in my experience, people who aren't in the industry get a little bored by my in-depth analysis of what's happening on set. But not Victoria. She asks questions and clearly wants to hear all my thoughts, even when I'm tempted to hold back.

And it's on the tip of my tongue on multiple occasions over the next few weeks to ask about what she and Mia talked about. If she's talked to Aurora yet. What she thinks about transitioning to sewing on a more full-time basis. What it would take for that to happen.

But I hold back. I don't want to pry, and I fear pushing will end in a way I don't like. So I bite my tongue and muster all my patience. I need to let her see the way forward for herself. If I don't, she'll always question how it happened and if she deserves the life she's achieved.

We get one more night together about two weeks before filming is scheduled to wrap. Once again Erin's been invited to a sleepover. Victoria's not on set that Friday, and instead I head to her place as soon as I'm done for the day, around four o'clock.

"Don't ask about Aurora," I lecture myself on my drive over. "And don't ask if she's given Mia any new sketches. If she wants to tell you, she will." I've been doing my best to leave Mia out of it too, especially after I asked last week and she wagged a finger at me and told me she wouldn't be our go-between.

"I'll let you talk to me about her," she said, "but I'm not going to feed you information. Put on your big boy pants and ask her yourself if you really want to know."

But I'd already promised myself I wouldn't do that, so I've just been suffering in agony, waiting and hoping for Victoria to bring it up.

I'm not sure how much longer I can wait, though. It's been weeks since our last disastrous conversation, but now Mia's asked her to design some costumes for the next film she's working on, and I know there's been talk of Victoria designing a dress for Aurora to wear to the premiere. And filming will be over soon. There's not much time—or opportunity—for us to have the kind of conversation we need to have.

I want more. And I want to know that this won't end once the movie's in the can. That I can visit. Or she'll come visit me—which, if she is working on costumes or dresses for celebrities, it would make sense that she'd need to come to LA occasionally too—and we can make this work.

Yes, I know there are more complications with a long-term relationship, especially if it has to be long distance for a while or even for some of the time forever. She has a kid—who I haven't even met—and a job and a life here. And I don't want to take that away.

I just want to be a part of it.

She opens the door with a smile when I get to her house, welcoming me inside and kissing me deeply. It's exactly the welcome I need after my thoughts have been running away from me, wondering and hoping and dreading by turns.

This type of welcome gives me hope that maybe this can work out after all. Because this isn't just physical. It's been way beyond physical for weeks now, and I know I can't be the only one who feels that way.

"I've missed you," I murmur against her lips.

She responds with a soft grunt that I take as agreement, but since my tongue is in her mouth, she can't exactly articulate that. My hands find their way under her scrub top to her bare skin, and I let out a low groan at the silky softness I can't get enough of.

Leaving her mouth, I kiss my way down her jaw to her neck, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. "I missed you too," she whispers. "I'm glad you're here."

Her words warm the cold place deep inside where all my worst fears about our relationship live.

Breaking away, I lace my fingers with hers and lead the way to her bedroom. She chuckles, but follows along without protest or resistance. "We're very single-minded today."

I cast a look over my shoulder, one eyebrow arched. "Can you blame me? I mean, look at you."

Still laughing, she looks down at herself and plucks at the fabric of her top with her free hand. "Oh, yeah. Everyone knows scrubs are the sexiest look around. That's why they sell them in all the high-end lingerie shops."

Grinning, I turn to face her, pulling her close with my hands on her hips. "You're the sexiest woman around." Unable to stand it anymore, I lift the hem of her scrub top and pull it over her head, leaving her in a tiny camisole and a bra.

She giggles when I start tugging at the camisole too, needing to get to her skin right now. "I don't think that statement is empirically true, but I'm glad you think so."

After tossing aside the camisole, I bracket her hips with my hands again and hold her still. "Why do you do that?"

Her eyebrows pull together. "Do what?"

"Dismiss my compliments. Disparage yourself. Refuse to accept how amazing you are."

Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, her brow still furrowed, before she tosses her hands up. "I didn't know I did?"

Nodding, I pull her flush against me. "You do. A lot. Like you don't think you deserve good things." I drop a kiss on her shoulder, close to her neck. "You deserve good things, Victoria. You deserve the best things. And I want you to let me give them to you."

Her arms remain at her sides, and when I lift my head, her expression is still a mix of confusion and consternation. "I don't know how," she says in a small voice.

"You don't have to do anything," I murmur against her skin. "Just accept. You let me take care of you here like this. I want to take care of you in other ways too."

She lets me guide her onto the bed and strip her pants away, leaving her in a pink satin bra and a pretty pair of panties, silky and pink. I pause a moment to admire them, assuming she wore them for me, and run my finger along the waist of her panties. "These are nice."

Her lips curve in a smug smile, confirming that yes, they were for my benefit, at least somewhat. "I'm glad you like them."

"I do. I like your panties and your bra and your scrubs and your jeans and your T-shirts." I strip off my clothes as I speak then climb on the bed over her. "But most of all, I just like you."

She hums, arching up and rubbing herself against me. "I like you too."

Not wanting to push my luck too far, I don't say the words on the tip of my tongue—Then let me help you. Let me pave the way for you to do what you've dreamed of. Let me be part of your life after this. Let me come over when you're not having a sleepover and help cook dinner and stay the night even when your kid is here. Let me in. Let me stay. Let me be here forever.

Instead I kiss my way down her body, bring her to orgasm, then roll on a condom and slide inside her. That first push into her body is the best feeling in the world. She's incredibly responsive today, like she's been waiting all this time for me to fully unleash her sensuality. And it's an honor to be the one to do it.

Pulling out, I have her flip over onto all fours so I can reach around and rub her clit while I enter her from behind. After a bit, her fingers join mine, and I let her take over, whispering filthy encouragements as she rubs her clit while I make love to her. Because this stopped being just fucking ages ago, if it ever really was.

She starts panting, and I know she's getting close. "Yeah, god, yes," I mumble. "Fuck. Let me feel you come. I want you to come all over my cock. I need you to get there. I need to feel you." My words seem to be helping, so I keep talking, repeating variations of the same thing, and then with a sharp cry, her pussy clenches around my cock, milking me. My balls pull up tight, lightning zips down my spine, and I unload inside her with a groan, my orgasm seeming to go on and on and on until at last I'm completely spent.

We collapse together onto the bed, and I hook an arm around her to keep her close, my cock still embedded deeply inside her. I'm not ready to disconnect my body from hers just yet. But after a moment—after I've caught my breath a little—I know I have to. Reaching between us, I hold onto the condom as I pull out, then roll off the bed to discard it and clean up.

When I climb back into the bed, she snuggles against me and sighs. "I'm so glad we have one more night together."

"Me too." I kiss her temple, pulling her close. Should I say something? Should I ask about the possibility of keeping this going?

Even if she doesn't want to change anything about her life, even if she doesn't want to work with Mia or design red carpet gowns, why couldn't this be something more? Why couldn't we have more nights together?

Sucking in a deep breath, I decide to just go for it. "Is there any way we could have more nights together?"