Page 47 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

I shake my head and sigh. “Not yet.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Me neither.”

For the next couple of hours, we carry on like this. Running around Breckenridge and checking off the silly little things she wrote down for us to do. It feels like a tour of the small mountain town with no pressing obligations to fulfill. The more we go about it, we agree that it seems like she just wanted to show us the highlights of the town.

Sample the appetizers at the restaurant to give me ideas to cook at the B&B seems too obvious of a joke.

And Find a good book at the bookstore to stock the second-floor bathroom is hilarious.

She’s trying to get us together, and I don’t mind it at all. Spending time with Caleb after we gave in to our mutual desire isn’t weird like I feared it would be. It’s the same. We’re the same. Bickering without meaning it and teasing like helpless flirts. His sarcasm and wit are on par with mine, and I can’t believe the evening and night has passed so quickly.

I don’t want this fun to ever end. As the sun sets and we enter a bar, I know it doesn’t have to be over just yet.

“You want a drink?” he asks me over the loud music. It’s country, then rock, and even some newer hip-hop. I haven’t gone out to such a comfortably ordinary place in years. Maybe never. But I’m charmed and excited as I look around and see regular folks drinking, talking, and some of them dancing, too. It’s crowded and hot, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and miss this adventure.

“Yes!” I practically have to shout to be heard over the din of conversations and music.

Caleb holds my hand as he leads me to a pair of vacant stools, and as I nod when he points at a bottle behind the bar, he gets two beers.

Talking becomes a challenge, but we bow our heads together and try to keep chatting. The beers keep coming, and with the alcohol, we both loosen up. Maybe Caleb has a higher tolerance than me, but I am loving this opportunity to let go and just have fun. Before long, we weave our way toward the dance floor. His arms never release me, and I struggle to keep my hands to myself.

So far, he’s only pecked chaste yet sweet kisses on my lips, and I worry for a second that he’s not as into me as I wish he was.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” I blurt out later into the night.

“I was waiting for you to make a move.”

I grin, loving the lack of pressure. He’s not lording over me with any expectations, and I can’t believe my luck, that I’ve found a guy who doesn’t have to be overly alpha and controlling. Maybe he’s being so careful because of what I’ve shared about my past. Either way, I feel revered and treasured.

Holding the back of his neck, I keep him right where I want him as I lay a wet, urgent kiss on his lips.

“Hmmm.” He hums, holding me close and nuzzling my neck.

The music changes, but I barely notice. Now that I’ve shown him how much I want him, he’s on board with making out and grinding against me as discreetly as he can. Things heat up fast, and I wish we were alone. I’ve never been great at handling public displays of affection. My parents forbade them, claiming they were “cheesy” and “tacky.” Any affection I ever showed Jeremy felt forced because it was expected for the farce of being a couple in love.

I don’t want to share Caleb, though. I want him and his hungry kisses and greedy hands all to myself.

When he breaks our kiss and rests his forehead against mine, I heave in deep gulps of air. I’m dizzy on lust and maybe a bit tipsy, and we both laugh as I miss my step and stumble against him.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think either of us are fit to drive back to the B&B tonight.”

I rear back and nod, blinking to clear my vision. I’m not wasted—yet. But he’s right. “What should we do?” I can’t imagine Breckenridge having Ubers.

“There’s a hotel on the corner.”

I gasp, mocking shock. “Isn’t that cheating on Marian?”

He laughs, and I fall in love with the carefree sound.

“Okay,” I tell him once we reach the bar, hand in hand.

Walking to the hotel is a long process because we keep pausing to laugh at something that probably wouldn’t be funny without beer goggles. And kissing. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and I’m addicted to the thrill of being the focus of his attention and desire.

When we reach the lobby, we find that they have a vacancy. One. A single room. To his credit, Caleb does try to ask about any possible rooms so we can have two.

“I’m sorry, but we only have the one,” the receptionist says.

I bite my lip as Caleb glances over his shoulder at me.

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