Page 101 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Do you still work for this girl’s father now?”

Fraser shook his head. “We parted ways a long time ago.”

“Why?”

Exhaling heavily, he blinked up at me. “That’s a story for another day. One question, remember?” He reached over for my book and slid it in front of me, tapping the cover. “Your duke awaits, Milady.”

And even though I so desperately wanted to ask him what other stories he had to tell—I had no doubt there were enough of them to keep us awake for many nights in the future—I couldn’t help but smile back at him before I rolled my eyes and scoffed, pretending I was repulsed by the idea of reading any more romance, when what I really wanted to do was lean forward and whisper in his ear that I was learning far more from my time with him and his life than I ever would from a silly old duke that never existed.

34

Fraser

Igave Charlotte a ride back to her apartment, convincing her that it was the perfect trade-off. One demand for another after her only agreeing to meet me in Covent Garden if she could make her own way there—something that had put me on edge all morning, wondering if she’d be safe.

Of course, she had been. I was starting to see a tough, resilient side of her I wasn’t sure even she was aware of. I was also starting to see a softer side of myself that I hadn’t known existed, and that side was making me nervous.

I’d never been a guy who dated. Never felt the need to be anything else than what I already was: a man on this mission to eradicate the world of monsters one evil bastard at a time. But from the moment I’d sat beside her at that bus stop, other things seemed important, and I couldn’t get her off my damn mind. This beautiful woman with a pure heart and an army of pompous arseholes against her. I’d convinced myself that she needed me. I could be the one to save her. That my obsession with her had nothing to do with anything other her protection. I’d even had those thoughts in the shower, not long after having the best sex of my life because of her.

Now, though, as the sun began to set on another summer’s day in London, I couldn’t bear to lie to myself for a moment longer.

Charlotte had the potential tobesomeone to me.

But this young woman would always be in danger because of my lifestyle, and I’d been foolish letting her in.

She stared out of the window just as I pulled my car up outside her house and turned the engine off. I waited for her to look my way and say or do something, but she remained looking out at the houses on the other side of the street, her delicate chin resting on her fist.

“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?” I asked, aiming for humour, but no smile rose on her face. Her expression didn’t change.

“You were right, you know. About how much can change in a day.” Her voice was quiet, brooding almost, as though she was lost in a thought that she couldn’t get herself out of. “I’ve lived in this city my whole life, and I’ve never felt its heartbeat the way I’ve felt it throb beneath my feet and in my veins today.” She turned to me, eyes meeting mine. “A coffee shop, a bookstore, and a quiet bar with only seven people in it. That’s all it took for me to find what I feel like I’ve been searching my whole life for. That quiet simplicity that makes you feel so full, you’re scared you might burst.”

It was the kind of emotion and calm I’d wanted to see in her since I met her. It was what she deserved, to feel content.

“And you, of course,” she added. “A coffee shop, a bookstore, a quiet bar, andyou.”

“You deserved a day, Charlotte Grant.”

“That’s the problem, you see,” she said, unclipping her seatbelt and turning on her side so she was facing me, her eyes sparkling under the streetlights that had turned on a moment ago. “One day with you isn’t enough.”

“How many do you want?”

“How many can I have?”

I gripped her chin between my thumb and finger. “As many as you like.”

“Some things just feel too good to be true.”

Not knowing what to say, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, swallowing the little hum of satisfaction she released the moment my tongue swept across hers. I’d spend my life kissing her for that sound. It brought back memories of every time I’d slid into her tight, wet heat, and it immediately made me hard for more. I couldn’t fuck this woman enough, and it killed me that I’d had it for five nights straight and then had to spend the night away from her.

She reached up to wrap her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in as though she couldn’t get me close enough, either. But there was something different about this kiss. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t hurried to lead to more.

This kiss felt new.

Hotter.

The slow tease, the swollen lips, the way she needed me there, sharing her breaths, almost on top of her as she continued to slide down in her seat, pulling me over her. My heart raced, and my hands slid around her back until I had my arms curled around her, pulling her in.

She was right: some things did feel too good to be true, and this was one of them.

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