Page 109 of Puck and Prejudice

“I’m sorry.”

God, that was lame.

“I have to go.”

I reach for her arm. “Izzie, please don’t go. Let’s talk.” She shakes her head, but I’m not going to give up this time. “What are you afraid of?”

“I can’t talk about it. It’s stupid.”

She starts to turn, but I frame her face between my hands, keeping her eyes locked to mine. “Tell me. Please?”

A moment passes, and neither of us seems to be breathing. Finally, she exhales. “I’m afraid that if I give in to my feelings for you, I’ll lose myself.”

I want to laugh. Izzie Bennet has feelings for me. “That won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I won’t let you lose yourself, my sweat, beautiful, Izzie. And do you want to know why?”

She frowns. “No, I don’t want to know. What do you think?”

Chuckling, I kiss her lips. “This is why. I love your spirit, your mind…everythingabout you.”

“Youloveme?” she squeaks. “Are you sure?”

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tight against my chest. “Yes, I’m sure. You don’t have to say it back.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She returns my embrace, and that’s all I need from her in this moment—to stay with me.

ChapterForty-Four

IZZIE

Against my better judgment, I let Jackson walk me to my room—we’re staying on the same floor. I agreed to have dinner with him, Grayson, and Frederico, but I had to change. That resulted in round number two.

Jackson is now chilling on my bed, watching TV, while I finish putting on makeup. I can’t believe how domestic we’re acting when, a couple of hours ago, we weren’t even a couple.

I freeze, but my heart beats faster. I’m in a relationship with Jackson. I suppose the change in status quo hasn’t sunk in yet.

“Izzie?” he calls me from the room.

“Yes?”

“The guys are in the hotel bar already. What should I tell them?”

I walk out of the bathroom, putting my earrings on. “What do you mean?”

He gives me an elevator glance that makes my pulse accelerate. It’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes. “You look stunning.”

“Do you like the dress?” I run my hand down the fabric. It’s cerulean blue with a cinched waist and a flowy skirt that hits mid-thigh.

His brows arch. “Do I like it? Yes, gorgeous, I like it very much.”

My face warms. I smile. “Thanks. It has pockets.”

He laughs. “Why do women always say that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

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