Page 57 of His

Astor looks down, his jaw clenching.

“Find that missing lock of hair and then we’ll have something.”

When Astor doesn’t respond, Ben leans forward, a pitied expression on his face.

I slide my hand over Astor’s, under the table.

“Astor, hear me,” he says. “You need to let this go. For your health, for your future happiness.” He glances at me. “You need to let it go.”

Thirty-Seven

Sabine

We spend day one of our “vacation,” reading by the pool—and by reading, I mean Astor staring blankly into the distance with a closed book on his lap.

By day two, I’m sick of it. Astor has to snap out of this harmful trance he’s in. So, the moment his eyes open, I demand that for the next twenty-four hours everything we do must involve either sex or alcohol. Preferably, both. Two things sure to calm Astor and return his focus on me—and me only.

I’m in the bathroom, getting ready for dinner, when Astor appears in the doorway. For the first time since leaving the beach house, his face is relaxed.

I smile, turn, and take him in. He’s wearing a salmon-colored dress shirt, untucked, linen pants that do nothing to hide the bulge between his legs, and flip flops. Impossibly handsome.

He takes in the red lingerie I’m wearing.

“It’s the set you got me on our first date, remember?”

“Yes.” His eyes meet mine, the spark of heat unmistakable.

Well, hello. There’s my man.

He advances, reaching for me, and begins running his hands over my curves. I abandon the eyeliner on the counter and wrap my arms around his neck.

“As much as I’d love to take you right here on this counter,” he growls in my ear, “we have to be upstairs in five minutes.”

I pull back, frown. “I thought we were doing room service tonight?”

“Not anymore.” He smiles adoringly and kisses the tip of my nose. “I know I’ve been distant, and I want to make tonight special. For starters, I have a surprise for you in the closet.”

“A little black dress?”

“A very little black dress.” He playfully pops a palm against my ass. “You have five minutes, my beautiful goddess.”

Ten minutes later, we arrive at the stunning rooftop bar. Everything is black, gold, mirror, and glass. The sun is just beginning to set over the San Jacinto mountains, spreading a golden glow over the desert below. A streak of pink clouds color the sky, fading into a deep indigo blue.

I’m so awestruck at the view that I don’t immediately notice that we are alone in the bar, even though it’s seven o’clock.

“Where is everyone?”

“Just you and me tonight, darling.”

“You rented out the entire top floor of the hotel?”

He shrugs. “Easy to do when you own it.”

“Mr. Stone,” a blond bombshell greets us. “Wonderful to see you. I’ve got your table set up outside as requested.”

“I can’t believe you,” I whisper as he threads his fingers through mine.

“Consider this an ‘I’m sorry’ for my behavior lately.”

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