Page 19 of One Weekend in Quebec City

I turn, and he hands me a glass, his fingers brushing against mine. The brief touch sends a jolt of awareness through me. I take a sip, the fruity flavor swirling on my tongue, and I can’t help but meet his gaze over the rim of the glass. The Prosecco is cool and crisp, a perfect complement to the warmth spreading through my body, making me achy and needy in sensitive areas.

“To whatever this is… because it already feels like more than just one weekend,” he says, raising his glass slightly.

“To finding more than I expected. And being brave enough to want it.” I clink my glass against his. Notruerwords have slipped from my lips. I don’t know where this courageis comingfrom, but I like it.

We stand there, the silence between us thick with tension and possibility. Every nerve ending in my body tingles, and I’m excited for what comes next.

Without breaking eye contact, Spencer takes my glass and, along with his, puts them down on a bedside table. Then he closes the distance between us, resting his hands on my hips, his breath warm on my neck as he breaths me in.

“Then let’s be brave together,” he says, his voice low and intimate in my ear. “No more pretending this is just a story,” he murmurs, his fingers lightly stroking up and down my torso. “Not tonight.”

His touch is light, teasing, but there’s nothing casual in how he looks at me now. His eyes roam over my face in thedarkness of the roomlike he’s memorizing it.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped into the bar,” he says, his voice a rasp against my skin. “And every second since has only made it worse.” His fingers skim a path across the silk of my dress just beneath my breasts, causing them to perk up, eager for more direct contact. “Tell me you feel this too, Shelby. That I’m not the only one who can’t seem to walk away.”

My breath catches as his thumbs gently swipe across the tips of my nipples.

“I know what this weekend was supposed to be,” he says, his voice deep and rough. “But I haven’t been able to treat it like an interview since the second you looked at me like you saw something worth writing about.”

He slides his warm hands up my sides and pulls me a little closer—not demanding, just enough to feel the shift in the air between us. “I’ve spent years surrounded by people who want something from me,” he continues, softer now. “But you’re the first person who’s made me want to give more.”

I can’t move. I don’t want to.The wayhe’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.

“Say something,” he whispers. “I need to know if we’re on the same page. Because if you don’t want this, I want to hear it now. And I’ll back off.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “I don’t know what this is,” I say quietly, my voice catching. “Or what happens when the weekend ends.” His thumb draws a slow circle against my waist, grounding me. “But I haven’t been pretending either,” I admit. “Not since that first night.” My God, was that only last night? Only twenty-four hours ago? How can I be falling for somebody so quickly?

A smile flickers at the corner of his mouth—soft, almost disbelieving. He exhales, a whoosh of breath like he’s been holding it. “It feels like a whirlwind. I can’t believe we only met yesterday.”

“You scare the hell out of me, Spencer. Because this feels like more than just a weekend fling. And I don’t know what to do with more. But even if you’re only in it for the few days we have, I understand. And I’m okay with that.”

He leans his forehead against mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The room is quiet except for our breathing and city sounds beyond the window.

“Let’s not figure it out tonight,”he murmurs. “I want you so much it’s driving me insane.”

Looking up into his eyes, seeing the raw desire, the naked need reflected in their depths, melts the reserve I may have been holding on to. “I want you too, Spencer. I want you so much it terrifies me.”

He cups my face, his thumb skimming the line of my jaw, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t have to be afraid, Shelby. Not with me. I promise.”His hands slide up my back, slow and sure, pulling mefullyagainst him. “I’ve got you,”he says, the words a soft vow against my temple. “Whatever this is, I’m not letting it slip through my fingers.”

He brushes a light kiss against my cheek. Thenonejust below my ear, lingering like he’s tasting the moment. When he pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes are darker, more intense, and still full of that steady warmth. “Come here.” Lacing his fingers with mine, he leads me toward the be before pausing to turn and face me again. His other hand comes to my jaw, tilting my face up.”No more pretending,”he says again, a little rougher now, the edge of need in his voice undeniable. “Not tonight.”

His kisses are slow, deep, andcertain. His lips are soft yet demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth, seeking entry.

I open for him, a soft moan escaping me as our tongues tangle and our breaths mingle, our bodies pressing tighter together. His is solid, hard in all the right places against my softness. He tastes of Prosecco and the tiramisu we had for dessert.

He turns me, never breaking the kiss until my knees hit the bed.

Kicking off my heels, I sit down, scooting back as he follows, his body covering mine, his weight a delicious pressure that sends heat coursing through me.

His hands roam my body, tracing the curves he seemed so appreciative of earlier, his fingers finding the zipper of my dress, slowly drawing it down. He trails kisses along my neck, his hands pushing the fabric of my dress aside, baring me to his gaze.

The cool air hits my skin, and I shiver, my nipples hardening in anticipation.

Spencer raises his head and looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, a question in their depths.

I nod, my body aching with need, a level I’ve never experienced. He lowers his head, his mouth finding my nipple through the lace of my bra where he makes circles around the sensitive peak with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently.

I arch my back, pushing more into his mouth, a soft cry of pleasure escaping me.

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