Page 49 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

Lying in bed beside Merida, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her but then looked back at the ceiling above us. Her breath was still coming in uneven, soft pants, and her brown curls were spread out wildly across her pillow. I was still in a bit of shock that I was lying in her bed at all. This was not the way I expected the night to go.

We had crossed a line, but I didn’t regret it. How could I? I was still enjoying the afterglow. My body felt like I had been through a deep tissue massage. Every muscle had been worked and was now completely relaxed. I was sated. The feeling was incredible. I didn’t want to move.

Merida shifted beside me, stretching out one arm and smiling. She looked like a satisfied woman. I smiled at her and let my gaze wander around her room. The room wasn’t what I had expected. It was colorful and mismatched, as if she hadn’t quite figured out who she was yet. The walls were adorned with various pieces of art, each with its own story to tell. It was like she bought whatever she was in the mood for and didn’t care if it matched or not. Then again, I wasn’t going to claim to be some great decorator. I paid someone to decorate my apartment.

But what caught my attention most was her dresser, where a laptop sat beside a stack of files that overflowed with documents. It was a little chaotic and looked like something I would expect to see from an author. I could totally see her sitting at a desk with pencils stuck in her wild curls and glasses sitting on the tip of her nose.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I turned my gaze to her. “What’s all that?” I asked, nodding toward the laptop and the stack of files.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “It’s nothing, just work stuff.” She wouldn’t look at me when she said it.

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t told me what she did for a living, and her abrupt response piqued my interest even more.

“Work stuff, huh? Care to share?” I asked, my tone playful but genuinely curious. After all, there was so much about Merida that I still didn’t know, and I was eager to unravel the layers of her life. She had managed to avoid most of my questions earlier in the limo. She gave me some very generic answers, but I realized she never really told me who she was.

Merida stammered for a moment, her expression shifting from uncertainty to a hint of amusement, before finally revealing what she did. “I’m an editor for a magazine.”

I was genuinely intrigued. “Oh, what magazine?” I pressed, eager to learn more about her life. It was a little strange to be lying naked in bed with a woman I didn’t really know. I supposed even that wasn’t strange, considering I often chose to keep the women I took to bed at arm’s length.

But Merida was different. I wanted to know her. There was something about her that drew me in. I wanted to know what she liked and didn’t like. I could see there was so much more to her than the gorgeous curves that hooked me from the very beginning.

She hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share the details. “You probably wouldn’t know it. It’s a column for women who want to pursue simple, meaningful living by slowing down.”

I furrowed my brow, not quite grasping the concept. “Simple, meaningful living by slowing down? What does that mean?”

Merida let out a soft, musical laugh. “I wouldn’t expect someone deeply entrenched in the tech world to understand,” she replied with a teasing glint in her eyes. “But it’s about finding contentment in the quieter moments, embracing a slower pace of life, and seeking fulfillment in simplicity. It’s about ditching the tech.”

I burst into laughter. “I think you just broke my heart.”

“Sorry,” she said, giggling.

“We couldn’t be more opposite.”

“I’m not saying I shun all tech,” she explained. “I’m saying there have to be moments we just be quiet. Our phones do not have to be attached to our hand or face. Tech is great, but it’s nice to have a minute to be in the moment. To listen to the trees blowing in the wind or the silence in general.”

I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her choice of profession. It was a stark contrast to my own world of innovation and rapid advancement. But there was something alluring about the way she described it, and I found myself wanting to know more about this side of her life that she had chosen to keep hidden until now. I understood the idea of being in the moment. I had to take a step back now and then. My world could get very loud and very complicated.

After the passion that burned between us, lying beside Merida in her colorful and mismatched room, I felt a newfound closeness and openness that made me more willing to share. It had been a long time since I had been with a woman that made me feel anything. I felt safe. I felt like I could talk to her about my thoughts and feelings without judgment.

“This is nice,” I murmured. I didn’t actually mean to say the words aloud. They kind of slipped.

“Nice?” She smiled and put her hand on my chest.

“Lying here with you,” I clarified. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stayed longer than a few minutes after the deed was done.”

“You mean basking in the postcoital bliss?” she joked.

“Yes.” I grinned and turned to face her. “I guess I don’t take the time to be in the moment. Not that I’ve had a lot of moments with a lot of women.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I repeated.

“You’re a pretty good-looking guy.” She shrugged. “You’re successful. Why don’t you have a girlfriend? I would think you would have a long line of women who want to be with you.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I work a lot. I don’t have time to devote to a relationship. I don’t want to be distracted by a relationship. I have a lot of things I want to accomplish and a woman would get in the way.”