that mean you don’t want the grand tour of the house?” I point toward the bedroom where you can see the chair in the corner as well as the white cover on the big king-size bed.
“I think we can save that tour for another time,” she says. I clap my hands and smile so big my face feels like it’s going to hurt. “What are you clapping about?”
“You,” I say, getting close enough to her that I can feel her breath on me. “Just admit that this”—I point at her and then at me—“will happen.” Her mouth falls open, and I lean in farther. “Good to know we are on the same page,” I tell her right before I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Now, let me refill your drink.”
Chapter 13
Layla
I can’t seem to take my eyes off him while he walks away. The date or whatever we are calling this is going great. I look around the yard and then back at the window that I now know belongs to his bedroom, and I wonder what it looks like. I mean, not that I care, but I do wonder if it matches the rest of the house.
I will admit I thought I would see a bachelor pad with a man cave, but instead, I found a sleek modern home. “Here you go.” I hear him say and look back at the sound of his voice. “Were you trying to peek in my room?” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“You caught me,” I say. Our fingers graze as I grab the glass of mimosa that he’s holding up for me, making me shiver. I blame it on the wind right away, but the tree leaves haven’t moved. “I was wondering how fast I can get in and out.” I take a sip of the mimosa, hoping like fuck my mouth just stops talking at this point.
“Oh, gorgeous,” he says, winking at me. “If you’re in my bed, nothing is going to be fast.”
“Oh, good God,” I say, trying to show him that I’m not affected by his words. He throws his head back and laughs. “Good one.” I point at him. He walks toward the door, but I don’t follow him. He looks over his shoulder.
“Come on and check it out.” He opens the two doors. “I promise I won’t bite.” He takes one step in and then smirks at me. “I mean, unless you want me to.”
“You are the most annoying man,” I say, walking to him. “I’m going to check out the bedroom just to prove to you that I don’t care.”
I walk in ahead of him, and if I wasn’t trying to prove a point, I would gush about how beautiful his room is. The ceilings are high with exposed gray beams. The king-size bed sits in the middle with a white duvet on it, a gray throw blanket is across the foot of the bed, and about fifteen throw pillows. “Do you really make your bed every day?”
He shrugs. “Not every day, but I like things clean,” he says. I check out the gray velvet couch in front of the bed facing the fireplace with two round gray velvet chairs in front. The lights hanging from the ceiling look like light bulbs on a chain—it’s modern and masculine all at the same time. “The master bathroom is in there.” He points at the arched doorway in the corner. My feet move on their own, and again, I’m awestruck when I walk into the bathroom. The floor has transitioned from the gray rustic wood planks in his bedroom to a darkish gray marble. The massive shower has mirrors all the way around with what looks like jets everywhere, and it faces a big deep tub that has a marble step to get into it. Candles line the back of the tub, and I can just imagine how it would be.
“It’s so …” I try to find the words. “It’s so …”
“I love it, too,” he says. “Come and let me show you upstairs.”
“You really don’t have to give me a whole tour,” I tell him, but I follow him out of the bathroom past his walk-in closet, and we end up in the great room. “I will give you this; the layout is perfect.”
“It’s not the only thing that’s perfect,” he says, and I groan.
“I know,” I tell him. “I know you’re perfect, too.”
He stops and turns around to face me. We’re suddenly standing way