Page 30 of One Night Only

“Of course.” His tone turns wary. “If you want to be alone, Annika, tell me.”

I grab his arm so fast that his hand almost hits me in the face. “No. You’re mine tonight.” The words betray so much I haven’t even processed. I sift my fingers over the soft hair on his arms. This freedom to touch him however I want and whenever, I’m going to miss this so much. “Unless you’ve had enough of the sobbing mess I’ve turned into and—”

“Shut up, Ani.”

“Yes, sir.” The giggle that follows is squeaky.

Within moments, darkness cloaks us. Dr. Cross pulls the duvet up as I turn to face away from him, still holding his arm hostage.

He spoons me, tucking my head under his chin. I prop my folded legs between his and burrow into the cave he makes for me with his body. The warmth from his bare chest is delicious.

I feel wanted, protected, precious even. A highly addictive feeling for one as deprived of acceptance as I have been.

“I’m sorry for crying like that,” I whisper, emboldened by the darkness. Opening up feels less raw away from his perceptive gaze. Also, by the knowing that he won’t desert me after my outburst.

“Never apologize for your feelings, Ani, whatever they are. Not with me.”

He says it as if there’s a future stretching ahead of us, making my heart ache. “Even if they are impulsive and loud and too much?” I sound like a child seeking reassurance again, but the words are already out.

“I have built my life on order and structure and predictability. It hasn’t made me any happier than you are, I think. If anything…”

“What?”

When he remains quiet, I wriggle in his hold. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware of the seconds piling up into minutes and hours. I’ve been so overwhelmed by this instant attraction and his addictive attention that I have learned nothing about him. While he knows me more than any other person does.

He adores his mother, is kind to his cousin Arthur, is renowned for using experimental technology in his career, and runs a charity that raises funds to help pay medical bills for underprivileged kids—that’s the extent of my knowledge of him.

Questions about him swarm me suddenly, like bees buzzing. I know nothing about his dating life, his views on love, or if heeven has a current lover—some sophisticated woman in her late-thirties, who’s a badass in her own field.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Dr. Cross?” The question barrels out of me before I can stop it.

Chapter Fifteen

Annika

“That’s an insulting question.”Dr. Cross’s sigh rumples the small hairs near my temple. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I did.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. Martha says you always have a beautiful, sophisticated woman on your arm at charity fundraisers and galas. Possible you could have an open relationship with one of them.”

“An open relationship that allows a little sidepiece when the fancy strikes me?” His tone is full of disdain. “Maybe it works for some, but not me.” His arm is a leaden weight against my stomach. “Casual sex is a thing, yes. But if I were in a relationship with a woman, I’d expect fidelity and exclusivity.” A self-deprecating snort fills the air. “I guess I’m an old-fashioned man.”

“I don’t like sharing either,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says.

The word rings with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You know a lot more about me than I do you.” My tone is a little whiny. “It’s unfair.”

I can feel his smile in how his lips stretch across my arm. His fingers dance on the underside of my breast, making me restless. But this is of the mind, fueled by time ticking away like sand in an hourglass. “Ask away then.”

“You date a lot, right? Martha told me.” Because I can sense his quiet laughter, I add, “She’s forever bemoaning that you didn’t marry again.”

“I won’t say no if a friend sets me up. Networking is the lifeblood of charity work. I figure the more people I know from different facets of life, the better.”

“So, you consider dating work? That’s kinda sad.” I infuse fake distress into my tone because the idea of him not dating anyone fills me with selfish glee.

He smacks my hip as if asking me to pay proper attention. “I mean that I socialize a lot. Sometimes, it’s a blind date.”

My curiosity is a wildfire that might consume me in its path. But I can’t stop. “Did any of them pan out into something more? Any woman so irresistible that you fell in love?”

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