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“It’s cute how excited you get for all your rides.”
His laughter rings around the diner as we walk through it.
He holds the door open, and as I pass him, he murmurs, “Well, if this morning’s ride was a prelude for what’s coming, hold on tight, baby.”
As we step into the elevator, the steamy elevator scenes from the romance novels I’ve devoured lately flood my thoughts. I’ve always wanted to make out in an elevator. And I was a mere second away from attacking him in the empty elevator before a hand appeared, halting the closing doors. Really?! The man nods at both of us as his family of seven piles in. He has no idea what he just interrupted.
Paxton squeezes my hand with a knowing smile. He winks down at me, and I stifle a giggle. Once behind the closed door of our hotel room, Paxton scoops me up in his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed and then gently lowers me and says, “I have something for you.” He walks over to his luggage and grabs something. “I was going to give it to you at dinner, but we might not leave the hotel room the rest of the night.” He stands between my legs and hands me a box. “Happy one-month anniversary.” Panic bubbles up in my chest. Was I supposed to get something for him?
I take the box and look up at him. “I’m a horrible girlfriend. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Kalico. You being here means more to me than anything you could’ve given me.”
He sounds genuine, but how can he be this perfect? “It’s so pretty,” I say, staring at the blue box.
“You haven’t even opened it yet,” he teases. “But I’m glad to learn that you like boxes.”
“I’d like anything you gave me.” I lift off the top, and there’s a delicate gold necklace with a tiny bat wings pendant. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”
He helps me put it on. I never thought a man could be this attentive. Remembering little things that meant so much to me, but figuring they were inconsequential moments to them. I hold the wings in between my fingers, remembering our little buddy on our first date and wondering how I got so lucky with Paxton, and then I chuckle to myself—it wasn’t luck at all.
It was fate.
“The necklace isn’t what’s beautiful. You are,” he whispers, putting his knee on the bed, bending over to capture my lips, his hand gliding through my hair.
I realize in this moment how hard it is for me to let go and let him in completely, as the wall around my heart has been built by countless betrayals and silent scars of broken promises. There’s fear he could wake up tomorrow and leave me like everyone else has in my life. It’s not being alone that I fear, it’s rejection.
But he’s slowly breaking down that wall.
I want to let go.
To trust him.
When he stands up, our gaze holds for a silent beat. Mine is a silent plea for a promise. His desire and need. He’s here, Kali. Let him in.
His fingers play with the edge of my shirt, brushing against my bare waist, and I lift my arms so he can pull it up over my head. After he tosses my shirt to the side, I undo his buckle and unbutton his shorts. In one tug, he yanks off his shirt and then grabs my hand, pulling me onto my feet.
He trails kisses up my neck. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I want this,” I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. “I want you.”
He lowers, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that’s both tender and demanding. As his hands move to unclasp my bra, I shiver, not from the cold air blowing but from the anticipation and the raw, unfiltered need coursing through me. Biting his bottom lip, he watches as he slides the white lace bra off. A slow growl emits from the back of his throat, and he bends to take one of my boobs into his mouth.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the day you stripped in front of me at my cabin.”
I playfully gasp. “I was in a vulnerable state.” Did I really think I had a tracking device inserted somewhere? Fear made me do silly things.
He flashes a quick grin. “That’s why I didn’t. But I wanted to.” Next, he pulls my shorts off, dropping to his knees as he does it. I run my fingers through his curls, loving how they feel. “You are the most exquisite woman I’ve ever seen.”
I don’t believe him. I’m average. A five, at best. That doesn’t equal exquisite.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m just…” I’ve always been okay with being average until this moment where I have to explain how average I am. My cheeks heat from embarrassment.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” I respond.
