Page 47 of Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar

I snatch the bag full of candles from the floor, then make my way back into the bathroom so I can look around and determinewhere they will sit. There’s a large window above the toilet, so I put a few along that and turn around to make a line of them along the sink. My last spot to put them is along the tub’s edge, which seems like the perfect spot for me, and once I’ve got them situated, I take a step back to inspect my work.

The ones sitting along the window and sink look out of place, so I drop them into the bag and take them back into the bedroom with me. I nearly smack myself in the head when I open another bag and find the blocks of cheese I purchased staring back at me, so I scurry along the floor to stash them into the mini fridge until I’m ready to cut them.

Although the robes our hotel provides are nice, I felt like Mallory deserved something a little more luxurious, so I grabbed a better one. I pulled the thick, fluffy fabric out of the bag, tossed it over my arm, and walked back into the bathroom so I could hang it on the hook behind the door.

When I take in the picture before me — the candles, sound machine, bubble bath — a frown forms on my face.

I'm struck by the unfamiliarity of my actions, a wave of vulnerability washing over me. I've never done this for anyone before, and I never cared enough to try. The care I'm putting into every detail is foreign, yet it feels right. This desire to see her smile again, to ease her burdens, is exhilarating and worrisome all at once.

As I arrange the candles and set out the wine, I'm forced to confront the truth I've been avoiding. I thought I was justscratching an itch, but now I'm building a home. It's about connection, about wanting to be the person who makes her day better. The realization sends a jolt of panic through me. This level of caring wasn't part of the plan.

So what would make me try to relieve her stress? This isn’t something I’m supposed to do. It crosses a line and shows that I care.

Maybe I do care.

I shake my head, foot tapping nervously onto the hardwood flooring, and scrub a hand down my face.

Caring would be bad. It means that I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. My heart thuds loudly at the prospect, but I do my best to ignore it and back away from the room.

Even if this is over-the-top, I can’t back out now — I’ve already got Mallory coming to the room, and it would be weird to send her away. She would know something’s up and likely come anyway to check on me.

What if she doesn’t like any of it?

First, I worried about how this would make our situation look, and now I’m concerned about her liking it — I really need to figure out where my head is at, and soon. There’s one more bag left, so I carefully pick it up and take it into the bathroom, where I spread the contents out along the bathroom sink. I place them as neatly as possible along the edge, then stare at everythingwith a furrowed brow, and it isn’t until my phone beeps that I jump into action.

She’s going to be here soon, and I didn’t even start the bath.

After I double-check that Mallory’s actually going to pay me a visit, I hurry over to the tub and start running her water. It doesn’t take long for the bubble bath I dumped inside to start creating bubbles, and I give myself a mental pat on the back while smiling. There’s a remote for the sound machine, so I click the power button and set it at the edge of the tub where Mallory can reach it.

The next thing I do is light all the candles scattered around the tub, with enough time to spare for me to get any garbage thrown away. Just as I wipe sweat from my brow, since I’m nervous as hell now, there’s a soft knock on my door that echoes four times. I take a deep breath, then carefully make my way over and pull the door open with a smile.

She takes a moment, eyeing me curiously, then steps into the room.

“What was so urgent you needed me to come here tonight?” Her voice isn’t soft like it normally is, which is enough to show me she’s got a lot on her mind.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Just trust me, sweetheart.” The words come out softer than intended, loaded with an emotion I’m not ready to name.

Her eyes meet mine, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her defenses. It’s enough to make my heart skip a beat.

I walk up behind her, press a tender kiss to the side of her head since I can’t get enough of her, and roam my hands down the length of her body until I’m fisting the fabric of her shirt. She tries to pull away, likely to tell me that we’re not doing this right now, but I keep my hold on her tight and force her to look me in the eye.

Her gaze softens, even though there’s still a million other emotions running throughout, and she relaxes into my touch while I strip the clothes from her body. Once she’s bare to me, I take a moment to look her up and down slowly — something I never tired of doing — then I point toward the bathroom.

“Go wash up,” I whisper.

“I already showered.”

I smirk. “Humor me, then?”

She rolls her eyes but starts toward the bathroom without another word. When she gets to the door, her steps pause for a moment as she listens to the noises coming from the other side. Then she looks over her shoulder at me with a brow raised. I don’t answer, though, which forces her to push the bathroom door open.

I hold my breath as she reaches for the doorknob. In this moment, everything hangs in the balance. As the door swingsopen, I realize I’m not just hoping she likes the surprise. I’m hoping she understands what it means - what she means to me.

There’s an audible gasp, and I rush to follow her. As I watch her take in the scene - the candles, the bath, the thoughtful details -I’m struck by a realization that shakes me to my core. The look of wonder on her face, the way my heart swells at her reaction - it’s undeniable.

I'm falling, yes. But for the first time in my life, I don't want to stop the descent.

17

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