Page 221 of Remy

He cups my cheeks and places a kiss to my brow. “Promise me you’ll have a good time.”

I sigh with exaggeration. “It’s not exactly an easy promise given my aversion to crowds.”

“And people in general,” he snickers, his hands falling to his sides.

“You’re only cementing your cruelty.”

“And you’re only cementing how you’re the best daughter in the entire world.” He peers at me with beaming pride. “You’ve grown into such an amazing woman. Please take tonight to celebrate yourself. If not for you, then for me.”

Oh, God. Please don’t get sad. Please. Please. Please.

“Fine.” I nod. “But if I’m doing tonight for you, then you and Lucy need to supply the perfect Saturday morning hangover brunch for me tomorrow. Your shout.”

“I want nothing more than to have brunch with you tomorrow.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I love you, fragolina.”

I swallow the emotion scrambling up my throat and wrap my arms around him. “I love you, too, Dad.”

He kisses my hairline. “Take on the world for me.”

“I’ll take on one club. For a few hours. Nothing more.”

His laughter rumbles into me before he ends the hug. “Okay.”

I grab my phone and keys from the coffee table, then shout a quick goodbye to Lucy before hustling out the door.

I’m already three steps down the staircase when I raise my gaze to see Remy strolling across the parking lot, hands in pockets, grin devastatingly handsome as he peers up at me.

My heart thunders to a stop, my feet almost tripping over themselves.

“Hey.” I slow my pace, fearing a misstep that will cause me to break my neck before I have the opportunity to touch him again.

“Hey, yourself.”

We meet at the bottom of the staircase, his aftershave making me high as I admire yet another crisp, stunning suit, the top two buttons of his matching collared black shirt undone.

“Long time no see, Pyro.” Those dark eyes take me in, his lips lazily kicked at one side in subtle flirtation.

The bastard seems completely unfazed by our reunion while I’m over here begging for my ovaries to stop screaming at me to climb him like the God of Pleasure he so clearly is.

“Yeah. Long time.” I shrug, attempting to match his demeanor. Two can play at this game.

He grins, slow and methodic.

My stomach launches itself into my throat.

Okay, so maybe two can’t play at this game because that cocky curve of lips has me dying.

He inches closer, his fingers brushing mine in the slightest breath of teasing contact. “I’ve missed you.”

“Are you sure?”

He seems to ponder my question with annoyingly exaggerated consideration.

“You’re so mean.” I shove at his chest, only endeavoring to make him laugh as he snatches my wrists and drags me into him.

“I’m not mean, Pyro. At least not to you.” He releases a wrist and wraps a hand around my neck, his rings scraping my sensitive skin as his lips press against my forehead. “I’m just trying to stay under control.”

I sink into him, fighting a groan, loving the familiarity of his hold. It feels like forever since we’ve touched. A lifetime in the space of five days.

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