Page 108 of An Inconvenient Marriage
There was no TV. But you didn’t need one. The wall that separated the living room and kitchen held a gorgeous fireplace that demanded all the attention. It wasn’t hard to imagine being curled up on the couch, tucked away in Zach’s arms while the fire sizzled and crackled.
I was still stuck in my fantasy when Zach’s hand pressed against the small of my back. And since I never saw it coming, I slapped a palm over my racing heart and glared at him. “You can’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry.” One corner of his sinful mouth curved into a smile. “But I have something I need you to see.”
He didn’t give me time to answer before he grabbed my hand and led me to the staircase at the far end of the room. It blended in so well, I hadn’t even seen it when I’d first come in. Trailing my free hand on the smooth chrome railing, I followed Zach up the stairs.
When we reached the landing a moment later, he pointed toward a door at the end of a hallway to his right. “That’s where we sleep.”
“We’ll still be sleeping together, then?” I honestly wasn’t sure. In Spain, it was for appearances in the beginning, but then our relationship turned physical, and not sharing a bed was impossible.
But for some reason, I thought things would be different in New York.
Zach stepped closer and curled his hand around my nape. “For as long as I have you, I want you next to me.” His fingers dug into my skin. “Under me. On top of me.” He lowered his head and whispered against my ear, “But never away from me.”
It was impossible not to confess, “I want that, too.”
“Good.”
Slipping his fingers through mine again, he took off in the opposite direction of the master bedroom—our bedroom. We walked past three open doors before he finally stopped in front of a closed one.
I didn’t know why, but my heart suddenly beat faster, my palms grew sweaty, and my mouth felt like I’d swallowed a handful of cotton balls.
Eyes on me, Zach perched his hand on the handle. “You ready?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “But I am curious.”
He let go of me to spear his long fingers through his hair. His nostrils flared with the deep drag of air he took to his lungs, and I could’ve sworn I heard him swallow a few times, too.
Why on earth would Zach be nervous?
Then he opened the door.
My hands flew to my mouth, and as I desperately tried to take everything in, I couldn’t stop the thick, hot tears from running down my cheeks.
Mannequins, sewing machines, rolls and rolls of fabric. There was a corner desk to my right. On it, pencils in every color I could possibly imagine, a computer, and a stack of sketchpads.
A shelf with more fabric, books, and containers took up the entire length of the left wall. With a white leather loveseat just next to it.
Still reeling from the magnificence of everything, I spun around. Zach had his hands tucked away in his pockets and his shoulder propped against the doorframe.
My hands were still pressed against my mouth, tears still running down my face. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Those dark eyes stayed on me as he straightened and closed the distance between us. Gripping my wrists, he guided my hands to his waist and cupped my cheeks between his palms. With the pads of his thumbs, he brushed my tears away and lowered his head to kiss the tip of my nose.
“I already told you, you deserve the world on a fucking silver platter. I can’t give you the world, but I can give you this.”
Silly, silly man. If he only knew he’d already given me the world, and when he walked away, he was taking it with him, too.
27
Natalie
Mysmilewasstillfirmly in place as the tips of my fingers slowly brushed over the smooth surface of the desk. My desk… inside my little studio—or at least that’s what I was calling the space Zach had set up for me.
“Holy woooooow,” Everlee drawled.
I’d sent her a text late the previous night to let her know we were back in New York. And another one this morning after I’d checked with Zach if it was okay for her to come over.
