Page 25 of Sweetest Sin
Until her.
We came back to the hotel to take showers and get ready for dinner, but as I watch Peyton step out of the room in a tiny black dress, the only thing I want to do is stay in and rip that fucking dress off her.
“I hope this is okay,” she murmurs, running her hands down the front of her formfitting dress while eyeing the suit that I had brought over since this trip was unexpected.
“It’s more than okay,” I say, taking in her black fuck-me heels that I can imagine digging into my back as I fuck her on the terrace under the stars. “Let’s go before I change my mind and make you my meal instead.”
Peyton smirks. “I wouldn’t mind.” She saunters over and slides her hand down my chest and torso, landing on my groin. “Especially if it means I get to makeyoumy meal.”
She squeezes my cock—which is stirring to life, thanks to her—and I back away, groaning in frustration.
“We’re going to dinner,” I insist, making her pout in response.
As much as I want to lay her out on the table and spend the night inside her, I also want to do this right since I only have one night with her, and that starts with wining and dining her.
The upscale restaurant I take her to is located on the water and serves authentic Spanish cuisine. Since she isn’t sure about what she wants, I order several items from the menu for us to split. The conversation is light, and she lets me in a bit more when she tells me about her time at college. It doesn’t surprise me that she was in a sorority, but it’s a reminder of how different our lives are.
I tell her a little about my business, keeping it PG, and she’s in awe of how many businesses Antonov Enterprises owns. We discuss the possibility of her going back to school, and when she mentions that she’s not sure if the loans will be worth it, I note to have Janet put together an anonymous scholarship that will cover the cost of Peyton’s schooling.
I hate that I won’t be able to see her follow her dreams, but at least I know she’ll be given the opportunity.
“I’m so full. I think you’re going to have to roll me out of here,” she jokes after taking the last bite of dessert.
“How about a walk instead?”
“That sounds nice.”
I pay the bill, and then we head out the side entrance, which leads to a sidewalk that will take us back to the hotel.
We walk hand in hand, and I can’t help but note how natural it feels with Peyton. The talking, the flirting, the kissing. Everything with her just feels right. As she smiles up at me, I consider telling her about the arranged marriage and asking her to wait for me to figure it out. But it wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t choose this life. I was born into it, and I’ve embraced it, accepted it—hell, most days, I fucking thrive on it—but she deserves better than this. Better than what I’m capable of giving her.
“Thank you for today,” Peyton says, not for the first time.
We stop just before the entrance to the hotel, and she rolls onto her tiptoes to give me a kiss. Her lips are smooth and sweet and perfect. When I’m back home, I know one of the things I’ll miss the most is this connection. Aside from my brother, I’ve always had to keep people at a distance. But with her, I let my guard down, and it feels good.
“I will always remember this trip,” she murmurs against my lips. “And I was wondering …”
In the lights shining down on us, her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of peach, and I quirk a brow, silently willing for her to continue, unsure what she wants to say that has her blushing.
“I was wondering if we could take a picture. I won’t post it or tag you or anything like that. I just want it so I have a memory of us to?—”
“Peyton, breathe.” I chuckle, and her shoulders sag. “I’d love to take a picture with you.”
I’m usually a private person. We even have an entire IT team on standby to wipe out anything we don’t want online. I’ve neverhad a social media account, and my family knows better than to post pictures on any of the platforms. But if it means Peyton has this memory, I’ll gladly go against my norm.
I spot a couple with two small kids walking down the sidewalk and ask the gentleman if he can take our picture.
“My wife would probably be the better option,” he says with a light laugh. “She’s the photographer in our family.”
He looks over at her lovingly, and she smiles. “I’d love to.”
Peyton hands her the phone, and we pose in front of the water—me holding her in my arms and her resting her hand on my chest.
After thanking them for taking the picture, Peyton watches as the family continues to walk away.
When I eye her in confusion, she answers my unspoken question.
“That’s what I want,” she says with watery eyes. “A loving husband and two, maybe three kids. All close in age so they’re not lonely, like I was as an only child. I want family vacations and romantic getaways.”
