I just hope she’s on the same page as me, because I’m about to put myself out there—put my personal life over business—and that’s fucking terrifying. What if she doesn’t feel the same way about me? What if I’ve been reading her wrong this entire time? I can’t keep living in this unknown so there’s only one way to find out.
I set my drink in the cup holder and reach for her hand, which she lets me take. I bring her knuckles to my lips and place a gentle kiss there. Her cheeks stain with a hint of pink as she smiles at me.
“My brothers were skeptical about our situation.” I look her in the eyes. “They told me there was no way I would be able to keep this strictly professional—our agreement.” I rub the side of my cheek, a bout of nerves hitting me all at once. Christ, man, just say it. “They were right. After our first night hanging out with Ellie and Dave, I knew you were different. And then I had a taste of you, in the hallway, I got to watch you come apart on my fingers, and I was fucking done. I tried to deny it, to ignore it, but my need for you has grown too strong, Lottie.” With a deep breath, I say, “I want more from you. And I know this crosses the line of our agreement, but I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you, because I do. I like you, Lottie. I like you a lot.”
“I was not expecting you to say that.” She takes a deep breath. Fuck, she doesn’t feel the same way.
She stands from her chair, and I panic that she’s about to leave, but instead, she sets her beer in her cupholder and takes a seat on my lap. She places her hand on the back of my neck and plays with the short strands of my hair.
“I like you a lot, too, Huxley. And I want you to know how painful that is for me to admit.”
I chuckle as I’m filled with relief.
Her hand cups my cheek. “You’ve slowly won me over with your heart, something I never thought I would say. Given how things first started, I wasn’t sure there was a heart in that barrel of a chest of yours, but I know now that you were hiding it.”
“Because I didn’t want to show you. I wanted you to think I was cold, soulless, just a man to work with, nothing else.”
She chuckles. “Well, you did a good job at that, but too bad for you, I have people in my life who like to point out the good in you. Which they pointed out to me. I wanted to deny it, I wanted to think it wasn’t true, that your soul wasn’t just spotted black, but encompassed by it. I was wrong.” She shakes her head and lets out a curt laugh. “God, I thought you didn’t like me at all, that maybe I was just a toy to you.”
“Why the hell would you think that?” I ask.
Shyly, she moves her hand over my shirt as she says, “Because this weekend, when we were intimate, you never kissed me.”
For a goddamn reason.
I tilt her chin up so she’s forced to look me in the eyes. “Because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” I wet my lips, moving closer. “And honestly, I wasn’t sure you even wanted me to kiss you.”
“I do,” she says, her voice sounding breathless. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something as much as I want you to kiss me.” Her hand falls to my cheek. “You’ve commanded my body, Huxley, now I want you to command my mouth.”
There’s no way in hell I can deny myself now, not with that confession, not with the way she’s pulling me closer.
No, I want this. I want her.
This might go against every goddamn thing I’ve said from the very beginning, but it seems as though it’s inevitable. There’s no more denying our attraction, our need, our yearning.
It’s out in the open, and I’m going to take advantage of it.
I gently place my hand at the side of her neck, and with my thumb, tilt her chin up just before I lower my mouth to hers.
It’s a simple kiss but with a powerful punch behind it, packed with pent-up restraint and desperation.
And now that I’m not in front of my brothers or Dave, I don’t have to make a show of our kiss. I can really let myself enjoy.
Enjoy how beautifully soft her lips are.
Enjoy the firm grip she has on my cheek, keeping me still, showing me how much more she wants from me.
Enjoy the soft noises that fall past her lips when she needs to catch her breath.
My mouth moves across hers, slowly exploring. Her tongue swipes against my lips and I open my mouth to allow her to explore. Timid at first, her tongue gingerly strokes mine, but as I grip her more tightly, her timid kiss turns more desperate, and before I know it, we’re making out, in our chair, waiting for the concert to start.
Her hand snakes behind my head and up into my hair, while I move my other hand to her ribcage, just below her breast. I’m tempted to cop a feel, to increase this burn between us, but right as I start to move my hand, a guitar chord strums through speakers.
We pull apart just in time for Fleetwood Mac to come onto the stage.
What?
No opening band?
No announcement?
Just . . . here they are?
The entire place erupts in cheers, and my comfortable make-out session turns into Lottie hopping off my lap and throwing her hands in the air as she starts jumping up and down and cheering.
Still seated in my seat, I give myself a few seconds to collect myself before I join her.
Lottie, she’s . . . hell, she’s fucking special. And I knew that from the first time she turned me down. She was someone in need, yet she only thought about her sister. She didn’t want her parents to be disappointed in her, so she looked out for them too. She fought me on things that deserved fighting me on, and even though I attempted to deny it from the beginning, I don’t think there’s a chance in hell I’ll be able to let her go.
And that means one thing: I have to make this work. I want to date Lottie, make her feel special, because that’s what she is—special. And I suspect she has no clue. No thanks to her “friend” Angela.
Standing from my chair, I wrap my arm around her and settle my hand on her stomach, keeping her close to me just as the chords for “Dreams” start to play. Lottie glances up at me, tears in her eyes. She reaches for the back of my head, brings me down to her, and places a passionate kiss across my lips, turning me into a goddamn desperate man, wanting so much more.
When she pulls away, she says, “Thank you, Huxley. Thank you so much.”
I press a light kiss to the end of her nose. “You’re welcome, Lottie.”
Smile still on her face, she spins in my arms and leans into my embrace.
And while Fleetwood Mac performs, Lottie never leaves my side, never shifts away. She sways to the music with me while we sing together, letting the night take ahold of us. And while I’ve been to many concerts before—a private jet makes it so easy—this is one of my best concert experiences. And it’s all about the girl in my arms.
“Mr. Cane, you’re free to remove your seatbelts and move about if you’d like,” the pilot says over the speaker.
Lottie is curled up in her seat, staring at me, the biggest smile on her face that I’ve ever seen.
“What?” I ask, unable to take it anymore. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“Because I can now.”
“Didn’t know there was a rule that you couldn’t before.”
She cutely tilts her head to the side. She ditched her hat when we got back on the plane, and she tied her hair up into a ponytail so her hair was out of her face. “There is when all you keep saying to me over and over again is ‘contract, contract, contract.’”
I chuckle. “I had a protective shield up. Can’t blame me for that.”
“You weren’t like that when we first went out at Chipotle.”
“Because I didn’t know the effect you’d have on me,” I admit. “Once I realized you were a temptation I couldn’t have, I shut down.”
“I see,” she says while standing from her chair. She walks over to me and says, “And what am I now? Still a temptation?”
“Undeniably,” I answer.
Her finger moves over my shoulder. “But you can have me now?”
“You tell me,” I say.
Smirking, she takes my hand in hers and pulls me out of my chair and toward the back of the plane. I pause her at the door of the bedroom situated in the back.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she asks, pushing the door open and walking backward into the space while holding my hand and smiling up at me.