Page 43 of The Sun and Her Star

I take his hand and pull him ‘round to the side of the statues that face the museum and point at the lion facing St. Martin in the Fields. “It’s this one.” I point up at the humungous black iron statue.

“Let’s climb up. Make our own memory here,” he says.

God, I love him so much. And, now Iknowhe loves me. He wouldn’t have done all of this. He wouldn’t be moving to Las Vegas, leaving his mom, his friends, formeif he didn’t feel the same way.

He lifts me onto the base of the lion’s platform and climbs up beside me. And then we both climb to sit on the top of the lion. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of us.

“Let me see.” I grab his phone and look at us. We’re both grinning like lunatics, and I think my heart might explode.

“Aghhhhh!” I shout my joy up to the heavens.

“It’s great, right?” he asks, smiling like he’s the one who just got the surprise of his life.

“Sogreat,” I confirm and let my eyes roam the busy square.

Even this late at night, there are people milling about. A family of four have been patiently standing in front of the lion waiting for us.

“Come on. Let’s go get something to eat, okay?”

He jumps to the ground in one fluid movement and then turns back to me.

“Let me help you down.”

I lean down, place my hands on his broad, strong shoulders. The muscles move under my hands when he reaches up to put one hand on either side of my waist.

When he lowers my feet to the ground, I keep my hands around his neck and gaze up at him. “What are we eating?” I ask.

“What are you in the mood for?” he answers.

“Whatever I want?” I ask and let my gaze drift to his lips before I look back at his eyes. They’re more hooded and I want him to see that I’m enough of a woman to understand what’s happening.

“Apollo …” he says low in a grumbling warning.

“Yes?” I say, raising my eyebrows innocently.

“What are you doing?” he asks, even though I can see in his eyes that he knows just what I’m doing.

“You said whatever I want,” I drawl.

“I meantfood, Sunshine,” he says. But he licks that lower lip and I know he doesn’t mean it.

“I want you to kiss me,” I tell him.

He swallows, and his eyes close in on my mouth.

“Now?”

“Mm-hmm …” I nod.

“I wanted to wait. I’m twenty-one …”

“Yeah, only two months ago.” I swat his excuse away.

“You’re not eighteen. In California—”

“We’re not in California. And even if we were, I only want a kiss.”

He closes his eyes and purses his lips.

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