Page 113 of You're The One
“We’ll see about that,” she says, voice low and amused.
“I should warn you, everyone who visits Hawaii leaves wanting to move here.”
“I believe it. Look at this view.”
I nod, though I don’t take my eyes off her.
She leans against the wrought-iron railing, elbows resting casually on the bar, and I follow, framing her body with mine.
My fingers drift closer to hers, stopping short of contact. She’s the one who bridges the gap, her pinky brushing my thumb.
Has such an insignificant touch ever felt this crucial? I can’t recall a time.
“I hear your date tomorrow is with Emma?”
That’s the first I’m hearing of it. Bodhi had hours next to me on the plane and didn’t think to mention that?
“I didn’t know,” I grumble. “One thing Bodhi failed to share.”
But I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Not if it means I won’t see her for most of the day. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me, pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. A slow drag of my lips, like I imagined her doing to me in the shower. Her breath hitches.
“He did have some good news,” I murmur.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“He’s not going to give us a hard time about seeing each other outside of filming. So, we can actually enjoy our time here.” I kissjust beneath her ear. “As long as I play along when the cameras are rolling.”
She turns to face me, leaning against the railing. I keep my arms around her waist—part protection, part excuse to stay close.
“That’s perfect.” She nods, resolute. “I was going to talk to you about the same thing.”
“You were?” Did she talk to Bodhi as well?
“Yeah.” She lays her hands on my chest. “I want you to be able to see this through. Explore all your connections, so when you make your choice at the end, you’re sure of it.”
Well, that isnotwhat I want.
Or maybe it is, technically, since the only connection I want to explore is with her.
If I’m honest, this whole process was doomed the second Mia stepped out of that limo.
Not because she was here.
But because of how I felt the moment I saw her.
Like it was Christmas morning and somehow Santa knew exactly what I wanted—something I’d never even written on the list—but he gave it to me anyway.
“Mia—”
“No, really, Dom.” She rises onto her toes and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
I tip my head to meet her properly, adjusting the angle.
When I start to pull back, she keeps me there, her hands firm, like she knows I’ve got more to say and doesn’t want to hear it.
That’s okay. She doesn’t want me to say the words.
But I’ll show her with my actions. I’ll go on the date with Emma tomorrow, like I’m supposed to. I’ll be honest with her, tell her there’s nothing between us, that production has their plan, but I’ve made my choice. She’ll understand.
