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“No, it’s not.” Mary squeezes my hand. “At least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

This time, Mary pulls me into a hug, her arms squeezing tight around my shoulders.

I lean back to study her face, noting the forced cheerfulness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I should stay here with her and not go on the date.

“So, what are you going to wear?” She shifts on the sofa.

I roll my eyes, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. “I don’t know. What does one wear on a second date?”

Mary taps her chin. “Something sexy, but not too sexy. You want to leave some mystery but also give him a glimpse of what’s to come.”

I laugh. “I think he already knows what’s there to come.”

“True, but still. What about the backless dress you have? The red one?”

The red one.

Chapter 9

My gaze shifts to the empty space beside me, the sheets still bearing the imprint of her delicate form, leaving nothing but a lingering trace of her intoxicating scent on the pillowcase. She looked peaceful and every bit mine, with her hair tousled from our night together.

I stretch out across the massive bed, relishing the pleasant soreness in my muscles. Evidence of a night well spent.

Last night was surprising, to say the least. I hadn’t expected her to be so bold, so uninhibited. The way she responded to my touch and commands, gasped my name... was exhilarating.

She’s a wildfire in bed, but her inhibitions run deep. I’ll need to fan the flames slowly, stoking her desire while calming her doubts. Moreover, what is the reason for her doubts? In one moment, she’s bold and confident, and in the next, she’s unsure and shy.

Too hurt, huh?

What kind of bastard must her ex-husband be to drive such a confident woman into self-doubt?

So much so that she feels the need to run away. Twice.

Like she intended to right after I thoroughly fucked her. I thought about letting her go, but I didn’t want to. Instead, I wanted to cuddle up with her in bed and wake up next to her. In normal circumstances, I would’ve gotten a hotel room and had my fun there, but the second she shimmied up against me, asking me if I wanted her, something snapped.

That’s a first for me, and yet she still runs.

I’ll have to convince her not to do that anymore.

Throwing back the covers, I move my legs off the bed. With a groan, I push myself to my feet and pad towards the kitchen.

My phone buzzes with a new message. It’s from the receptionist. She gave Gemma my message to meet for dinner tonight.

Perfect. Candlelight and fine wine will soften her resistance.

In the kitchen, I grind dark roast coffee beans and set up the French press for my daily morning coffee, glancing out the wall of windows at the city below.

I stifle a laugh, imagining her expression when the receptionist calls me her husband. The confusion, the surprise, the hint of intrigue, it would have been a sight to behold.

I pull out my phone and shoot a quick text to Connor.

Elijah: Who was the blonde with your girl last night?

Connor: You didn’t.

Elijah: Didn’t what?

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