Page 56 of Sweet Addiction
But I’m not a fool, and that was a foolish lie.
Now, standing in front of the restaurant, waiting for the valet and watching Dillan shiver, her peaked nipples pressing against her soft sweater, that seems to be my last straw. I pull her back against my chest and run my hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her, but it doesn’t work.
Fuck this. Slipping out of my coat, I drape it over Dillan’s shoulders and pull her back in to me. “I told you you’d be cold.”
“And I told you I didn’t want to look like shit,” she snaps through chattering teeth just as I notice a camera being lifted. “Rome...”
“I see it,” I whisper and lift her face in my hands, grazing my thumb over her cheekbone. “You could never look like shit, Dillan.”
She closes her eyes like my words cut a wound open, and I tell her what I really wanted to say. “So fucking pretty, baby.”
Without thinking it through, I drop my lips to hers, and the noise stops.
The sounds of the city passing us by. The cars. The people. The music.
It all ceases to fucking exist.
And any doubt I had about the woman in my arms is obliterated right along with it.
She sighs the sweetest fucking sound, and I take the opening and push my tongue into her mouth. Savoring her taste for the first time in two years. Her body melting against mine. Small, shaking hands balled into fists against my shirt.
One word playing over and over in my mind.
Mine.
The car pulls to a stop next to us, and a horn honks, startling Dillan, who pulls back with glassy eyes.
I hear the valet get out and round the car.
Catch the keys he tosses me.
But I don’t bother looking at him.
How can I when I’m looking at her?
Swollen lips. Pink cheeks. And beautiful eyes that won’t meet mine.
Not when I open the door for her or close it once she’s inside.
Not on the ride home.
And not when she changes into pajamas, grabs her computer bag, and hurries into the office.
She doesn’t say a single word, and I don’t push it.
Why would I?
Run now while you can, princess.
Iroll over in the middle of the night and drag my hand across the bed. There’s no pillow wall stopping me, and that has me opening my eyes and checking the time because there’s also no fucking Dillan.
It’s three-thirty.
Where the hell is she?
The lights are off downstairs. All but one. The office light is on and glowing under the closed door. And when I crack it open, I find my princess tucked into my favorite chair, the old warm leather wingback Ma let me take from the house when I moved. Her soft, sun-kissed hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and her pink laptop sits on her knees as her feet rest on the ottoman in front of her. Even in her sleep, she’s fucking beautiful.
But as I step closer, I see the exhaustion lining the curves of her face.
