inebriated haze, his meaning is clear. There’s no time for a relationship. He senses my unease and curls his hand around my neck, squeezing lightly. I drop my eyes to stare at the floor and swallow back the lump in my throat.
Getting emotional is one thing, but getting emotional while drunk is dangerous. I risk blurting out everything.
“What’s going through your mind?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Look at me.”
I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to regain some sense. I need to redirect the conversation then escape to bed.
“Lizbeth, look at me.”
I raise my face to his, and wish like hell I’d have kept my mouth shut. His eyes have now transformed to a deep shade of green that makes me want to confess everything I feel for him.
“What happened? What did I say wrong?”
Luckily, my brain catches up before I profess my decade long infatuation. “Nothing at all, I just want the best for you. You deserve to be happy. It sounds like you don’t have room for romantic relationships, and I hate that for you.”
“Who says I don’t have time for romance?”
“You did.”
“No, I said I didn’t have time for bullshit. Up until recently, I never saw myself being a relationship guy. Seemed like a waste of time, only to learn someone was after my money or my family name. Now, I’m seeing things differently.”
“Really? What happened?”
He runs the tip of his tongue along his lower lip and gently grips my hips. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifted me onto his lap and has both my hands in his. He moves our joined hands to rest on his stomach. The muscles contract under the touch.
“You happened.”
I freeze, my heart stopping. “W-w-what?”
“You happened. So pure, so sweet, so goddamn beautiful my heart hurts when I see you. That day in my office, your lips on mine, you crying in my arms, your incredible sadness over a young boy who will lose his life… It hit me hard. So fucking hard. I knew it then.”
“Oh my God.”
“Bizzy, I need you to look at me.”
I raise my eyes to his and feel the heat searing me again. “I didn’t plan to do this tonight. You’ve had a lot to drink, but you’ve left me no choice. I’ve been holding this in for weeks. This is my weekend to prove it to you. It’s you that’s changed my mind. Everything is about you. If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. No pressure.”
“I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying. Feel the same about what?”
He stays quiet for too long, then he stands easily, moving his hands to my waist and holding me against him. “Go get changed. You need to sleep.”
“No,” I protest. “Now, I can’t sleep.”
He walks us to my room and sets me inside the door. “Get changed and meet me back on the sofa. We’ll watch some TV. We’ve done enough talking for tonight.”
He turns to walk away, and I watch him disappear into his own room and shut the door. It takes a full minute for me to move, and even then, I trip over my feet getting to my suitcase.
Once I’ve changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth, I give myself a pep talk and realize this is not a hallucination. The details are fuzzy, but Crenshaw Bennett is waiting for me in the other room. My mind is swimming with questions, but I won’t ask anything else until I have my full wits about me and can process everything clearly. Even if it’s for one night, I’m going to enjoy it.
I walk into the living area and find him sprawled out on the couch with the controller in one hand, watching the TV. I stop dead at the sight of him in cotton pants and nothing else. The muscles hidden earlier under his shirt are now on display, and I want to weep in appreciation. He’s always been handsome, but right now, I take a second to memorize this image.
“Bizzy, come here.”
I walk over slowly, unsure where to sit. When I get close enough, he hitches an arm behind my knees and pulls me down, forcing me to lie on top of him.
“Get comfortable.”
I do as he says and lay my head on his bare chest. My eyelids grow heavy immediately and I snuggle close. “Please don’t let this be a dream,” I whisper to myself.
He tightens his grip and kisses my forehead gently.