Page 48 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“We can control ourselves, right?”

I lick my lips and love the way he groans.

I hope not.

Chapter 19

Caleb

“Should we take notes on the room?” Lauren asks as we enter the last hotel room Breckenridge’s downtown hotel has to offer. I’m not shocked that it’s almost full. Calling the building a “hotel” feels excessive. I doubt the place has more than a dozen rooms.

I’m grateful we snagged the last one, though. I’m not ready to end the night, and we’re way too drunk to drive anywhere. Drunk might be an exaggeration. I’m clear-headed to the point I’m buzzed, and the walk over here as well as the water I chugged helps chase away most of the alcohol fog.

“We can report back to Marian,” Lauren jokes as she walks further into the room, trailing her finger along the top of the trim that runs waist-high.

“A spy of hospitality standards?” I ask, sticking my hands in my pockets.

“Hmm-mmm.” She smiles as she saunters back to me. Placing her hands flat on my chest, she draws a deep breath and checks me out. “You could pass as a sexy secret agent.”

“We’re moving right into the role-playing phase of hooking up now?”

She giggles, smoothing her hands up over my chest as she steps fully into my space. I pull my hands out of my pockets and stroke them across her back until I hug her. She lets out a grunt at the impact of my pull, pressing her hips to mine.

Is she so buzzed she’ll miss the erection that I’m struggling to tame?

The heavy lidded look she gives me suggests otherwise.

“Are we hooking up?” she asks.

It’s too serious of a question. Too soon for it, too. Without a doubt, I’m falling too far and fast for her. I’ve never felt this strongly for anyone before, and that’s why it feels lousy to say we are hooking up. It’s a paltry term for us. Because this is the first time I’ve let a woman get to me like she has, I have no clue how to express that. I don’t know how to tell her what I’m feeling for her. Do I like her? Yes, a lot. Do I want her? Absolutely. Do I love her?

It’s way too soon to wade through that. Too complicated.

She’s just getting over running from her ex and I’m not much better, reeling from a lifetime of being a player and taking what I want.

Besides my cluelessness of how to express this undefinable connection, I don’t want to persuade her by sticking a label on us. That reeks of control, or at least expectations, and I’m trying my hardest to let her take the lead here. It’s only right. After the way she’s explained how she never had a chance to decide for herself, I want to make sure she feels like she’s got every choice possible with me. I can’t be like that asshole who made her run. She doesn’t deserve that. She never deserved it from him, either.

“No,” I finally answer, and that one-word reply feels important. She gazes at me with clarity, and I’m glad we’re not so drunk that she won’t remember this conversation. I won’t forget it.

“I don’t think we’re hooking up,” I explain. While I can’t tell her what I’m thinking or feeling for the fear of scaring her off, I do know this isn’t a simple hookup. Last night wasn’t either. Lauren is not at all like the many other women I’d slept with and left. Nameless flings.

“What are we doing?” she asks as she plays with the hair at the back of my neck. It tickles and teases me, making me hold her closer to get more of her fingers on me wherever she can reach.

“I’d like to just be us. A lost CEO and a beautiful beach babe.”

She giggles. “You know, not all blondes from Cali are automatically beach babes.”

I kiss her. “But you are beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah?” She kisses me back. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

I’m not fishing for compliments, but I do like doling them out with her. That rosy glow on her cheeks isn’t from the beer she drank. It’s from the weight of my words.

“And so smart,” I add with another kiss. She chases me when I pull back.

“Smarter than you?”

I pretend to think about it. “Probably.”

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