Page 103 of Cherry Beats

The boys began cheering roughly, their sarcastic comments about me getting some lovin’ making me laugh rather than blush. If this was life with the guys, I was going to have to get used to it, or Rhett was right… my only other choice was to leave, and I only had to stare into Presley’s piercing blue eyes for half a second to know that was no longer an option.

“We can play poke-herinstead.” I winked at Presley, which caused the guys to burst out laughing. All except Rhett who simply smirked and rested his fist against his mouth while he stared out of the big city window.

Taking matters into my own hands, I stood and held out my hand for Presley to take. He took a small second to think about it before he slipped his palm into mine and let me guide him back to his room.

Ourroom.

When the door closed behind us, and the noise of the men drifted away, I turned around and pressed my hands to his chest, looking up at him with every ounce of admiration I felt. His hands came up behind me to run through the ends of my hair over and over again.

“You really came back,” he said quietly, eyes searching mine.

“You thought I wouldn’t? I’m offended.”

“Youaremy little runaway.” Pressing his lips together, Presley started to hum the tune to Bon Jovi’sRunaway, and it made my beaming grin break free.

“Whoever ends up spending their life with you will be the luckiest woman to ever live. You know that, right?”

“What if that woman ends up being you?”

“A lifetime is a long time.”

“Only if you’re not having fun while you’re living it.”

I swallowed the doubts and arguments, the smartass comebacks, and all the things I could have said to make the moment a joke rather than a beautiful memory.

“You look scared again,” he whispered.

“The only thing I’m scared of is all of this being some kind of dream.”

He smirked coyly. “Being alive is the dream. You’ve just gotta want it badly enough to cling to it when the ride gets bumpy.”

“I love the way you think.”

“What else do you love?”

“About you? Everything.”

“Want to know what my favourite thing about me is?” He leaned closer, brushing his lips over mine. “You.”

“Kiss me,” I told him softly. “Kiss me right now, Presley West.”

“Such a chore.” He grinned.

Lowering his mouth to mine, Presley swept his tongue across my lips, letting me taste the alcohol and the peppermint I’d come to crave from his kisses. His strong arms tensed around me, and I melted into him, committing everything to memory and basking in the joy of every sweet moment I got with him.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“France?” I cried.

Presley shrugged into his leather jacket the next morning. “Unless you know of a different Paris?”

“You want me to go to Paris with you?”

“Yeah.” He bounced on the balls of his feet to get his jacket to fall into place. “Then Budapest, Croatia, Norway, Denmark. I think Julia mentioned Italy somewhere along the way, but I was fucked and her voice grates on me sometim—”

“Budapest? Croatia? Presley!”

“Baby, you know I only like you screaming my name like that when I’m inside you.”

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