Page 98 of Accidental Husband

The guy nods sure. He recites a safety speech, then moves back to his control panel, and hits the button.

Whoosh.

We shoot up, up, up.

The city comes into view. Every inch of neon, glass, steel, concrete.

Griff squeezes my hand.

I scream.

Then he screams.

We hit the top, glide to the bottom, hurl toward the top again.

Nervous energy races through my veins. Every part of my body is buzzing. The third climb sends me into overdrive.

Nothing—not screaming or holding Griff's hands or getting my feet on the ground—brings me back to Earth.

"Not too bad, huh?" The attendant helps me out of my seat.

I think I nod, but, honestly I'm not sure.

He unhooks Griff. "The last elevator down is in twenty minutes." He surveys the patio beneath us. "Looks like you're the last guests."

Griff whispers something in his ear.

The attendant nods. "Yeah, you should have a little privacy on the observation deck." He smiles. "But you only have fifteen minutes to get the job done."

Griff shoots me a devious smile. "I can work with that."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Juliette

Griff slides his arm around my waist. Brings his lips to my ear. "You want to do this here or inside?"

Inside makes more sense—it's a million degrees—but there's something about being this close to the city. It feels like I can reach out and touch every casino on The Strip.

Of course, I'd have to start with The Paris. For obvious reasons.

I'm not sure where the joke ends and the truth beings.

Only that I want to touch Griff.

That I want him to touch me.

But that…

It's way too loaded. It's not something that belongs in a perfect, easy night. There's nothing perfect or easy about the scars on my thighs.

They're out of the way enough he might not notice. I was smart enough to focus on my quads and hips. To cut high enough I can still wear stylish shorts.

That I can still…

Fuck an oblivious guy, I guess.

He might not notice.