Page 30 of Pretending I'm Yours

“I do enjoy an ‘I told you so’ moment every now and then,” he murmurs. “It’s a character flaw. I’m bossy, and I like being right.”

“And you’re smart, so you probablyareright most of the time,” I say, my voice growing breathy as his Anthony smell fills my head, making me want him even more.

It isn’t his cologne or shampoo, though, it’s just…him.

I want to bottle the scent that lingers at the warm curve of his neck and uncork it every time I want to remember the time I took a wild chance and ended up meeting an incredible man.

He inclines his head in humble acceptance. “I am. But it’s easy to be right when you stay in your comfort zone.”

I hum in agreement and force my gaze from his, taking another sip of my wine as I survey the tiny space. Even with just a full bed draped in a blue comforter on one side and a small desk and bureau on the other, it feels crowded. But it’s more than enough space for Pudge and me. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Want to see upstairs?”

“I’d love to,” I say, following him back down the hall.

The apartment isn’t large, but it’s perfectly arranged. In addition to the kitchen and living room in the main part of the space, there’s an office nook tucked under the stairs that holdsa vintage desk and more books. I’m completely charmed by the space, even before we reach the top of the steep stairs and open the door to a lofted bedroom that takes my breath away.

“Wow, this is amazing.” My eyes widen as I take in the king-sized bed covered in plush white bedding opposite a wall made completely of hazy vintage glass.

“And there’s a balcony. Sort of,” Anthony says, motioning toward a slightly rusty glass door that leads out onto an iron-worked platform about as big as our picnic blanket in the garden. He sets his wineglass on the bureau before reaching for the door handle. I do the same, crossing my arms over my chest and huddling against the chill as I follow him outside.

There’s a thin railing around the platform, but it would be easy to climb over it and jump down onto the roof of the building next door.

Or fall between the buildings and break your neck on the pavement in the alley below…

“It’s probably not entirely up to code,” Anthony adds, likely noticing my caution as I inch closer to the railing to peer over the edge. “But the view…”

I glance up, my concern vanishing with a wistful sigh. “The view,” I agree, gazing across the snow-dusted city, now glowing in the light of a nearly full moon. String lights from another balcony a few streets over cast a warm glow across the rooftops and puffs of white rise from several of the chimneys, carrying the scent of woodsmoke into the night air.

It’s like every romance novel about falling in love in New York at Christmastime rolled into one perfect moment.

And then, as if on cue, a saxophone begins to play “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” from somewhere below.

“Talk about perfect timing,” I whisper, moving closer to Anthony, my blood fizzing as he wraps an arm around me, drawing me against his side. We listen to the musician play for along moment before he asks in a hushed voice, “Is it weird that this is the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time?” he murmurs. “I mean, I love my family, but this…”

“This has been magic.” I turn to him, skimming my palms up his chest as his arms tighten around me. “Just…perfect.” I gather my courage, my pulse speeding faster as I add in softer voice, “I can only think of one thing that could possibly make it better.”

His fingers dig into the fabric of my jeans, just above where the small of my back becomes something more intimate. “Are you sure? We can wait. I don’t want to rush you.”

“Please,” I whisper, my heart now pounding in my chest. “Rush me. Take me to your bed and rush me. I don’t want to wait, I want?—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, a deep, wild kiss that assures me he’s as eager to finish what we started in the garden as I am. He backs me toward the door, our tongues dancing as his hands roam over my body with a mixture of confidence and reverence that makes me feel safer than I ever have with a man. I feel simultaneously safe and wild, in control and deliciously reckless, and I know this is going to change everything.

I’m not just losing my virginity tonight.

I’m losing my virginity to my dream man, a fantasy come to life who gets more irresistible with every passing minute. I love that Anthony is smart and kind as much as I love his gorgeous body and gifted hands. I love his laugh and his smile and how bossy he gets when he’s worried about me. And Ireallylove that he was worried, that he truly seemed to care about keeping me safe.

If he’s even half as good as I think he is, this man is one in a million.

And yes, a crazy part of me is starting to wish he could bemyone in a million. For keeps.

Falling for a man I’ve paid to make love to me would be ridiculous, of course, but as he closes the door behind us and cups my breast through my sweater with a soft groan of desire, I know fighting it is pointless.

I’m catching feelings for this man, and I don’t want to stop.

I’m not sure Icouldstop, even if I tried.

I may have zero experience when it comes to love, but I know this feeling snatching me up and spinning me around isn’t something that will be easy to ignore or control.

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