“Is that how you think of our first time?” Savvy asks in mock offense. “As closing the deal?”
“Of course not, darling.” He brings her hand to his lips. “I think of it as the second luckiest night of my life.”
“Only the second?”
“Soon to be third. Right after our wedding night and the night you agreed to marry me.”
Savvy coos at him a little, while Garrett makes a ridiculous face at me. I can’t help laughing because Kian’s right—he really is ridiculously charming when he puts his mind to it.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of food, wine, and conversation so funny that my sides hurt from how hard I’m laughing. It’s not how I envisioned tonight, certainly not how I expected it to go after my talk with Savvy earlier. But I can feel myself relaxing a little more with each intimate smile Garrett shoots me and each brush of his hand against mine. The worry is still there at the back of my mind, but I drown it out with Kian and Garrett’s funny stories and glass after glass of the best Champagne I’ve ever tasted.
By the time we make it back to the hotel at close to three in the morning, I’m drunk on Garrett and Paris and Champagne. It’s a fun feeling, light and carefree, and while normally I don’t let myself get like this when I’m out with a man, I trust Garrett to take care of me. Even through the doubts I have about him—about us—I know he’d never let anything happen to me.
Which is why I let him guide me through the hotel to our suite. Why I let him lead me into the bedroom and settle me on the bed. Why I let him kneel by my feet and unbuckle my heels before slowly, carefully sliding my dress off.
I’m not wearing anything but panties under the dress, and Garrett groans a little when he sees me. I reach for him, try to pull him up and over me, but he evades my grasping hands. Instead, he settles me back against the cool sheets with a kiss to my forehead.
“Drink some water,” he murmurs, pressing a cold water bottle into my hand before pulling the covers to my chin. As he does, his fingers brush against my nipples and the undersides of my breasts.
I arch into his touch. “I don’t want water. I want you.”
He shoots me an amused look. “Drink the water. Get some sleep. If you don’t feel like you’re dying in the morning, I will be more than happy to oblige.”
“I want to make love!” I tell him, but even I can hear how slurred the words are.
“As do I.” He grins at me from across the room, where he’s taking off his own clothes. “Tomorrow. After w
e’ve talked.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Yeah, I’m figuring that out about you. But you were upset about something earlier and I want to hear about it, when you’re lucid.”
I start to protest, to tell him it’s no big deal. But I know that’s a lie, even if I’m so drunk I barely remember what it is that upset me earlier. I start to tell Garrett that, but before I can get the words out, he’s sliding into bed beside me.
Wrapping his arms around me.
Pulling me against his long, lean, warm body.
Pressing kisses to my mouth, my cheeks, the top of my head.
And just that easily, I forget everything and slide straight into sleep.
Chapter 29
Garrett
I wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, head pounding, fists clenched in the sheets as I struggle to figure out where I am. To figure out where I am and if I’m safe.
It takes longer than it should, my head filled with images and sounds I’d do almost anything to forget.
I’m headed to full-blown freak-out mode when the absence of pain finally clues me in.
Well, that, and the soft snuffle snores Lola is making next to me.
I’m in Paris. At the George V. With Lola.
I reach out a hand to be sure, sighing with relief when I feel her soft, warm skin beneath my fingertips.