I lay in bed wide awake, waiting for Ed's breathing to change so I could sneak out while he slept. The first round, hot and heavy against his wall, had satisfied the evening's growing tension between us. But after catching our breaths, what had followed was longer, dirtier, yet equally intense, like neither of us wanted to venture into the realms of romantic for fear of what that meant for our relationship.

Ed knew his stuff, and after two months of friendship I'd grown familiar enough with him to allow the sex to take a darker turn in parts. It was like we both thought tonight could be a one-off—just a single chance to play out whatever fantasies had been unfolding in our heads. He'd touched me in places that no guy before him had ever touched, he'd fucked me so hard that my eyes had watered, and he'd whispered words in my ear that would make even a porn star blush.

He craved control in the bedroom because he felt like he had no control out of it. And I'd loved every second.

No longer in the heat of the moment, though, I considered that he probably knew his stuff because he'd slept with hundreds of girls before. He'd fucked enough bodies to perfect his technique. The quantity didn't bother me, but it did remind me why I was in this situation in the first place.

Becca.

Had he used these same moves on her? Unlike me, Becca had never felt comfortable enough to seek one-night stands. Most of her sexual experiences had unfolded within relationships. She hadn't worried about breaking that trend for a night with Teddy Stone, but if he'd pushed these same boundaries with her, and then kicked her out...

I shuddered, the guilt crashing over me. I'd put myself first tonight, and I'd been at peace with that decision. But now on the other side, having experienced a night with him myself, I could understand more clearly why it might have upset her so much, and why she hadn't wanted to talk about it. Had her shame at being used been amplified by how he'd used her?

Unable to lie next to him any longer, I slid out of bed and crept around as quietly as I could to get dressed.

"Sneaking out?"

Ed's voice startled me, and I scrambled for a legitimate excuse. We'd spent the night together before, and I'd been the one to suggest he wait until morning before leaving, so I knew exactly how my attempt at disappearing unnoticed looked.

"Can't sleep," I said, which wasn't a lie. "And I think you've destroyed my body, so I could do with a soak in the bath."

"Use the ensuite, if you like."

"I wouldn't want to disturb you. Go back to sleep."

As I reached for my shoes, he flicked on the lights, shuffling to sit up in bed. The duvet dropped to his waist, and although I'd had my eyes, hands, and mouth all over that chiselled body during the past few hours, I still couldn't stop my gaze from drifting down to the enticing contours of his chest, stomach, hips...

"What's going on, Soph? Have I scared you off?"

"No. Of course not."

No matter how much it bothered me that he might have upset Becca with some of those moves, I refused to let him believe he'd done the same to me. That wasn't fair.

"What, then? You regret it?"

I stepped into my heels. The balls of my feet still ached from hours of standing and dancing earlier, but I ignored the pain. Other parts of my body found themselves in a much worse state, and I tried to ignore that, too.

"No, I don't regret it, but I don't want to talk about it right now. It's four in the morning."

"Thought you couldn't sleep, though? How about I run you a bath here and we talk it over—?"

"I just want to go back to my own room, Ed."

His penetrating stare burned into me, like he could see straight through my bullshit excuse. Instead of calling me out on it, he sighed and reached for the light again.

"Fine. See yourself out."

I'd hurt him. I shouldn't have felt guilty—he'd done the same to Becca—but I couldn't help it. Regardless of the deception that had led us here, what we'd shared earlier had been real. An intense connection between two people so primal yet intimate that it couldn't be faked. The best sex I'd ever had by a long way. He didn't need his ego stroking by me admitting that out loud, but it still seemed callous to walk out.

When he rolled over to show me his back, however, I swallowed down the guilt and slipped out of the door.

*

I slept in the next morning, having only managed to drift off at five thirty. When I woke, my guilt had finally picked a side.

I'd given in to temptation with Teddy last night and satisfied my attraction towards him. But this wasn't about me—I'd made a promise that I wouldn't make it about me, too. Having already broken one promise, I needed to get back on track, just like I'd planned.

After a final read through, I sent off my article to Sammie. She replied within minutes, claiming it wasn't ideal that this phone call in Amsterdam had taken place nearly a week ago, but I was beyond caring. I'd done my part and written the stupid article; she could decide for herself whether the delay affected its credibility.

I knew Teddy had a morning of interviews before our flight to Paris which meant I wouldn't bump into him, but I still couldn't bear to leave my room. Yesterday had been taken up trying to arrange the surprise, meaning I had no content for my blog apart from the rooftop bar experience.

So I wrote about that. It was slightly off-brand, but at least I was paying the hire fee somewhat by giving it more publicity. Not that exposure via my little blog came anywhere close to Teddy Stone's social media posts, but who cared? Not me. I couldn't bring myself to care about anything. Or rather I couldn't allow myself to.

Just before lunch, a member of the team knocked on my door to give me a ten-minute warning for departure. I packed up and waited until the next knock before leaving the room. I needn't have worried. Teddy wasn't there—he was meeting us at the plane apparently.

Perhaps he was now avoiding me, too.

*

Not wanting to be a total bitch to him, I chose not to actively avoid Teddy on the plane and picked a nearby seat across the aisle after take-off. He didn't acknowledge me, nor even look in my direction, as I sat down, his eyes not leaving the window. It couldn't have been more different to last night. Although this was all my doing, I still hated how we'd flipped from intimate exploration of each other's bodies yesterday, to not even an ounce of recognition today.

The two-hour journey passed by in uncomfortable silence and that stretched on as we drove from the airfield to the hotel. Although no words were spoken, I still felt a magnetic pull towards him, my heart fighting with my head, and my body trapped in the middle of them, remembering the pleasure he could create and wanting to experience it over and over again, feelings and logic be damned.

When we finally reached our corridor, I caught his arm as he swiped his card against his room's sensor.

"I'm sorry if I offended you."

He froze, cold eyes slowly lifting to meet mine. "Are you ready to talk?"

My mouth dried up. I couldn't admit why I'd walked out last night. Even if I justified it by thinking about all the girls he must have walked out on himself, I accepted it wasn't the same. He wasn't friends with those random girls. I knew I owed him more, but I'd never felt so torn in two directions.

"That's what I thought." He swiped his card again, but I clutched tighter onto his arm, my fingers digging into the muscles as I tried to avoid thinking about how I'd held onto him in a similar way last night.

"Ed, please," I said, lowering my voice.

"Sophia. I get that you've always had a guard up with me, and that's fine. But it's not fair to raise and drop that guard whenever it suits you. I have feelings, too, okay? Try to consider them every once in a while, if it's not too much trouble."

That stung, but the hurt registered as anger instead, and every painful, conflicting emotion I'd suffered since the start of this doomed tour bubbled to the surface. Before I could judge whether it was a good idea or not, I snapped, accidentally dropping my guard lower than it had ever been.

"Consider them? That stunt I pulled with the bar last night was all for you, Ed. Even though you didn't consider my best friend's feelings when you invited her back to your room and then kicked her out when you'd had enough."

The words tumbled out in fury, and I only realised their implications when his turquoise eyes narrowed. He shoved open the door and yanked me inside, letting it slam shut.

"So this comes back to Becca, does it?"

He tossed his room card onto the desk and then perched on the edge, facing me, folding his arms, and waiting for me to speak. I couldn't back down now. I'd opened the can of worms and I had to own it.

"Of course it comes back to Becca."

Teddy sighed and shook his head. "I thought we were over this, Soph. You said we were over it. Weeks ago. You feeling guilty or something because of last night?"

Taking a step closer, I settled my hands on my hips. "Yes, I'm feeling guilty. Happy now?"

With a contemplative lick of his lips, he cast his gaze away from me, looking resigned as the weight of my confession hung over us.

"I'm not happy about how things went down with Becca," he eventually said, hesitant eyes touching mine again. "I treated her badly, and I'm sorry about that. But she chose to come to my room. I didn't promise her anything. I never intended for it to be anything other than a conversation over her charity work. I just got carried away."

"I get that. But there's a certain way to go about things, and you were hardly respectful."

"I know. I agree. What do you want me to say, Sophia?" He slid off the desk and threw his arms in the air. "Haven't I proven to you that I'm not always that disrespectful?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know. Have you?"

Brows knitting together, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His growing proximity tugged at my gut. The charged space between us thrummed with hostility yet attraction, like an inconvenient reminder that we could do so much more good to each other than bad.

"Last night—" I began.

"Last night was entirely consensual. You agreed to everything I suggested before we—"

"I'm not saying it wasn't." I raised my voice to interrupt him. "But how many other girls have you fucked like that, huh? And did they just say yes because you're Teddy Stone and who'd say no to him?"

For a brief second, his eyes widened, and lips parted. Then he scoffed and shook his head, turning his back on me and pacing towards the window. "I can't believe you've just said that."

"Well?" I prompted, not allowing him to disarm me with guilt-tripping. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He heaved out a deep breath and rested his arm against the wall, burying his head in the crook of his elbow. With my emotions and loyalty in tatters, I didn't want to believe it was true, but his silence did little to comfort me. Maybe it would be better if he did turn out to be a dick, just like Becca had painted him.

Eventually, he lifted his head but still didn't look at me.

"Which parts of last night are you asking about specifically?"

I spat out an incredulous gasp. "Seriously? Does it matter?"

"Yes, actually." His eyes landed on me, cold and angry. "It does matter. Because some of those more intense things I've only tried with one person before you. And some of them only with you. Happy now?"

If his expression hadn't been so deadly serious, I might not have believed him. But he almost appeared ashamed, like he was giving away a secret that he'd not wanted to share.

I swallowed and took a few deep breaths, wanting to make sure my next words weren't said out of impulse. As I considered how to reply, he spoke up again.

"I might have been the one in control, but I still had to place a lot of trust in you. That isn't something that someone in my position has the luxury of doing with every girl he meets."

With his vulnerable confession out in the open, he sighed and sat down on the bed, facing away from me as he scraped a hand over his jaw.

"I don't get it, Soph. You said this was about Becca. Is there something else going on? You were into it all last night but now you're regretting it in the cold light of day?"

"I don't regret it," I said. "If Becca wasn't in the picture, then my clothes would already be off."

I paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. Teddy remained stoic on the bed, his stiff body radiating tension that buzzed through the air between us. Not even my attempt to lighten the atmosphere, to reassure him, could cut through it.

"But Becca is in the picture. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't slept with the last two guys she liked as well. But hey, I'm a bad friend who makes bad decisions."

He stood and spun to face me. "Look, I'm sorry about Becca. It wasn't fair. It was cold-hearted, and yeah—you're right—it does look like I invited her back just to take advantage. I'm holding my hands up and admitting I did not behave in a respectful way with your friend. But this­..." he gestured between the two of us, "is completely different to that."

"It doesn't matter if it's completely different," I said. "Becca will still hate me for it."

"I'm not going to ask you to choose between me and your best friend, Sophia. But I spent less than an hour with Becca and over a month with you. It's not the same."

"Not to you," I said, "but she's been in love with you since—"

His fists clenched, the muscles in his forearms corded with tension. "She is not in love with me. She doesn't even know me. These girls, they think they know me. But they don't."

"And you still sleep with them," I said, shaking my head in disgust. "You know how they feel about you—how they think they feel about you—and yet you fuck them anyway and throw them out as soon as you're finished. And you have the audacity to suggest I was wrong for walking out on you last night, as if you haven't forced plenty of other girls to do the same."

Teddy rubbed at his head, as if the brutal truth of my words were physically painful. I'd wager a bet that nobody had ever spoken to him like that before or tried to hold him accountable. Who did he really have to answer to when he had NDAs to cover up his poor behaviour?

"So you're done with me, hm?" he asked, straightening up and folding his arms. "That's why you walked out on me last night? And that's why you're only saying all this to me now? Because we're done and you want to make sure I know how you truly feel about me?"

Was I done? There was no going back. If he knew how I felt, I couldn't deceive him any longer, not without it being obvious that I was either playing a game or that I didn't give a shit about my so-called best friend.

"On our first plane journey together, we asked each other questions," he said, taking me by surprise with the sudden change of topic. "You thought I was stealing your questions to prevent you from finding out intimate details about me. And maybe I was. Maybe I felt ashamed to admit how many people I've slept with, or how old I was when I lost my virginity. So I dodged the questions on the assumption that if you really cared, you'd just ask again another time. But you didn't. So come on—let's play again. Let's get everything out in the open. Sit down."

He flicked his hand towards to the opposite side of the bed, but I was frozen to the spot, trying to work out where this was going. I'd obviously pissed him off—I could tell that much from his bitter tone and tense body language—and despite the topic at hand, sharing a bed with him was something I should probably avoid if I wanted to keep a clear head and hold my ground.

"Why?" I asked, folding my arms. "You said you don't want me to choose. So why does it matter?"

"Because if these last two months have meant anything to you at all, Sophia, you'll at least want to know the person I was before I met you. And if it's too much for you to handle, then you can walk away, and I won't blame you for it."

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

Looks like Soph is about to get the answers to those questions after all. Do we think it'll scare her off?