Page 50

He shakes his head, brows drawn together. “I don’t know. But I’ll find a way. I’m not letting this go without trying.”

My heart stutters, and I want to believe him. I really do. But the world he lives in… the travel, the spotlight, the women… It’s hard to imagine us surviving that.

Still, I don’t voice those fears. Not now.

“Just… consider it?” he says softly, brushing my hair back from my face. “Please?”

I nod slowly. “Okay. I’ll consider it.”

His face lights up with the kind of grin that melts something in my chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down slightly. “Then can I kiss you properly now?”

I bite back a smile. “I think you’ve earned it.”

I rise on my tiptoes as his hands settle on my waist. Our lips meet again—slow, tender at first. He kisses me like I’m something precious, something he’s not quite sure he deserves but desperately wants anyway.

My arms wind around his neck as the kiss deepens, his tongue brushing gently against mine. He tastes like coffee and need, and the way he groans into my mouth sends a tremor through me.

He pulls me closer, our bodies pressing together, and I feel the heat of him everywhere. His hands slide up my back, one fisting gently in my hair as he tilts my head and deepens the kiss even further.

I’m lost in him—every touch, every breath.

My fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, skimming the warm skin of his lower back, and he shudders slightly against me.

But just when I think we’re going to lose ourselves completely, he pulls back—only slightly—resting his forehead against mine, his chest rising and falling as if he just ran a marathon.

“I want this,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “But I want to do it right.”

I blink up at him, dazed, lips tingling. “Okay.”

He holds me tighter, pressing a kiss to my forehead like a promise.

And in that moment, I don’t feel like a placeholder.

I feel like his.

Even if it scares me half to death.

19.Eddie

The black suitfits like a damn glove, tailored to the inch, sharp and unforgiving. The black shirt beneath is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of my chest, no tie—never a tie. Not for me. It’s polished, sure, but I’m still me. And I want her to see that tonight. I want the world to.

But as I pace the living room, checking the time on my watch for the third time in five minutes, the truth is, I don’t give a damn about the gala.

I just want to see her.

The past few days since Laney agreed to give this a real shot have been... something else. Easy. Natural. Like we’ve always known each other. Like this wasn’t supposed to be fake, not for a second. We laugh. We cook. We talk about everything and nothing. And in the quiet moments, when it’s just her and me? God, I can’t keep my hands off her.

The kisses we’ve shared—hot, aching, unrelenting—play in my head like a goddamn highlight reel. Her body pressed against mine, her fingers tugging at my hair, the soft whimpers she makes when I touch her just right. I’ve come so close to losing control more than once.

But I’ve held back.

Because I want to do this right. For her. For us.

Tonight, though? Tonight, I plan to romance her, to worship her. And if she lets me, to finally have her in my bed.