his blue eyes but then disappears, like he’s rearranging his features to hide it. “Fair enough.”
The hint, as brief as it was, touches my heart. If he’d had zero reaction, I’d think he didn’t care one way or the other. That he could take this or leave it.
We finish our drinks, pay the tab, and head to our suite, where I hope the answers will come to me at night.
But once the door clicks shut, I fear it’ll be that much harder to resist now that we’re alone together.
Since I’m not so sure I can simply take him or leave him.
12
Scarlett
This is not the first time we’ve been in a hotel room alone together.
Obviously.
There was Aix-en-Provence, as well as countless other times since I’ve become a partner. We’ve visited many of our properties together, stopped in rooms, checked them out.
This is de rigueur for us, just a regular part of a day in business.
Tonight is business, true.
But it’s also personal, because this is the first time we’ve set foot in a hotel room after I pretended to be his wife. After I learned how thrilling games with Daniel are. And after he uttered those seductive words—we can fuck and not let it ruin us.
Words that send a shiver over my body as the echo of them resonates in my mind. I hear them over and over, along with other words like . . . indulge in you.
And . . . our friendship matters to me.
Those words ring in my head as we survey the room, my eyes drifting past the sunken living room, the French doors that lead to the bedroom, and a balcony that overlooks the shadow of the hill.
Beautiful.
“Is it too soon to say I’ve fallen in love with this property?” I ask, buoyed by the prospect of this purchase, if all the other properties hold up too.
“Love at first sight is perfectly acceptable with music and fine hotels,” he says with a wry grin.
I raise a finger. “And books. Don’t forget books.”
“I’d never forget books. Falling for a story needs no explanation.”
I smile, glad we can do this, grateful we can be friends, that we can banter this way.
Talk like partners.
That’s who we are.
But there are practical matters to attend to. I gesture to the French doors. “You can take the main bed, Daniel.”
He scoffs, furrowing his brow. “Woman, who do you take me for?”
“Is that such a terrible idea?”
He strides to the balcony, opens the sliding doors, then tosses me a don’t be crazy look. “I’m a gentleman. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You don’t have to,” I say as he turns and gazes out at the view of the inky night sky. Stars wink on and off as a midnight-blue blanket covers the earth.
He shakes his head, brooking no argument.
I swallow, trying to figure out if I’m daring enough to say the next words. “We can still share a bed,” I offer.
Spinning around, he laughs this time. “Darling, we aren’t sharing a bed if I’m not fucking you. I’m not strong enough to withstand that.” He returns to the room, shutting the sliding doors.
“Truth be told, I’m not sure I am either,” I admit with a shrug.
His eyes seem to flicker with happiness. Like he’s grateful that the situation is hard for me too.
Believe you me, handsome, it so is.
He points to the couch. “But I am strong enough to withstand you from a sofa bed. And that’s where I’ll sleep.”
“At least let me get you a good pillow.”
He sets a hand on his heart. “A pillow. Hold me back. Perhaps some tea too? Maybe a biscuit?”
I roll my eyes, stride past the French doors, and grab a soft white pillow from the massive pile on the king-size bed. Briefly, my eyes linger on the mattress, images of us tangled up in the sheets taunting me.
Daniel’s strong back and shoulders, those sinewy muscles . . . I imagine his toned arms pinning me down, holding me in place. His hands traveling everywhere over me, gripping me, clasping me, pushing me to my limit.
And me, wanting all he gives. All he does.
Every rough, dirty deed.
Then, as I have before, I dismiss those tantalizing pictures, swiping them from my mind as I return to the living room.
“No tea tonight. But you know what the travel sites say—a good pillow is the measure of a great hotel,” I say as I hand it to him.
He takes it. “I’ll report back on its measurement at dawn.”
I return to the bedroom,