Page 84 of Beauty and the Beach

“Wesleep on a million-dollar mattress.”

My heart stutters in my chest.

“Fine. Yes,” I say. “Nowwesleep on a million-dollar mattress. My point is that we’re not going to be able to sleephere, so we may as well chat to pass the time. So tell me. Did you?—”

“If you’re going to ask me questions, I’ll get to ask you some too, and you’ll have to answer honestly,” he says, his voice lazy, his eyes still closed. “Can you handle that—sweetheart?” His lips quirk at the word—which is going to take some getting used to.

I hesitate for only a second. “Yes. Deal.” Then, wanting to clarify, I add, “And you’ll be honest too?”

“Mmm…yes,” he says with a little tilt of his head. “I’ll be honest.” His eyes flutter open as he turns his head to look at me.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I say. “I have so many questions.”

He snorts. “You can’t havethatmany. I’m not particularly mysterious.”

What a liar. “Okay, I have my first one. When we kissed in that closet?—”

“By accident?—”

“Did you like it?”

He’s silent for a second; his eyes narrow as they flit over my face. “How old were you then? Over eighteen?”

“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I was legal.”

“Then yes,” he says. “I liked it, much to my chagrin. I thought about it more than I should have.”

When I raise my brows at him, he shrugs. “You were Trev’s little sister, just a kid. I wasn’t supposed to think about kissing you.”

“Ah, yes,” I say as a particularly loud boom of thunder sounds outside; I startle and then go on. “You were ensnared by my charm.”

He snorts. “Hardly. But you did make an impression. It was…not at all what I expected.”

“Were you expecting it to be bad?”

“No,” he says slowly. “I was just expecting someone else. So I wasn’t expecting it to feel personal. But it did.” He pauses and then says, “You kissed me like you liked me.”

“I did,” I say with a sigh. “A little bit, anyway. Poor baby Holland.”

“You turned out all right.”

Considering that our fingers are tangled together and our hair is mussed and one of the buttons on his shirt is still unbuttoned…he’s not wrong.

“So I’m yours, huh?”

He hums, his eyes flashing. “I made that clear.” His voice is reluctant as he continues. “I’m not a romantic man, Holland. I don’t buy flowers or write poetry. And I’ve never been shown what a healthy marriage looks like. But you’re mine. I’ll keep you safe; I’ll treat you well.”

A laugh slips out of me. “Yeah, right—” But I break off when his hand clamps over my mouth.

“I’ve always treated you well,” he says as I try to lick his palm. “You’re the one who treats me terribly. Stop—that—gross,Holl?—”

“What did you think was going to happen?” I say when he yanks his hand away, wiping it on my shirt. “No—don’t wipe that on me!”

“Reap what you sow, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a grin, reaching for me. “Now answer my questions.”

“One question,” I say quickly as he pulls me closer, until his arm rests over my waist and our faces are separated by mere inches. “If I only got one question, you only get one.”

“You can have more,” he says. “But it’s my turn first. Do you want kids?”

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