Page 93 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“I don’t know. It’s kind of perfect.”
He looked at me then, and a shift happened between us. My hair was plastered to my head, my makeup was probably running down my face, and my dress was clinging to every curve of my body. I should have been embarrassed. Instead, I felt alive.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
“I’m a mess.”
“A beautiful mess.”
He leaned down and kissed me, right there in the rain, soft and slow then deep and hungry. When we broke apart, we were both breathless.
“We should get out of the rain,” he said.
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine’s closer.”
“Then yours it is.”
Christian’s penthouse took my breath away.
I’d imagined it would be impressive, but the reality was far more extraordinary. The floor-to-ceiling windows covered one side of the entire penthouse, giving the aura of standing on top of the Eiffel Tower with expansive views of the city.
Against the dark sky, stars twinkled and lined the firmament like a well-crafted display of the cosmos, minus the planets. Underneath my feet, Italian marble stretched across the floors, which looked like it belonged in a museum, polished to agleaming finish that reflected the soft lighting throughout the space.
“Wow,” I said, with water dripping from my dress onto his expensive floors.
“Let me get you a towel before you catch pneumonia.”
The double height ceilings soared high above us, with coffered molding that was an architectural dream. The color scheme was masculine, deep grays and rich browns, but there were unexpected splashes of color throughout. A vibrant blue painting above the fireplace, gray throw pillows on the navy sofa, and a peach Persian rug.
It was luxuriously sophisticated in a comfort setting. Unsurprisingly, it was what Christian represented in appearance and wrapped in the warmth of his soul.
He returned with two fluffy white towels, handing me one while he tossed the other across his shoulders.
“Whoever designed your space is in love with you.”
His guffaw stirred my insides. “I take it you like the place?”
“Like it? No, this is next level love. Your view is amazing,” I said, moving to the windows.
“It’s even better from the balcony, but probably not in this weather.”
I wrapped the towel around my shoulders, suddenly aware that my dress was clinging to me. When I turned back, Christian’s gaze was perusing me so slow it was like a soft caress.
“I should probably change out of these wet clothes,” I said.
“Right. I can get you something dry to wear.”
He disappeared down a hallway, returning with a soft gray t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that would be huge on me.
“The guest bathroom is through there,” he said, pointing to a door off the main living area.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The guest bathroom was larger than my bedroom, featuring more Italian marble and fixtures that were surely imported. I peeled off my wet dress and slipped into Christian’s clothes, rolling up the sweatpants so I wouldn’t trip over them.
