Get it together, girl. I’m not going to abandon my carefully constructed plan. I’ve already put my expansion efforts for the decorating business on hold so I could see my personal quest through to the end. The night I walked into the mansion for the first time, everything changed. My path shifted and all the lines I’d been casting into the waters of Charleston were reeled back in. Even though it hurt.
I vowed to myself I would leave Elijah better off than when I found him and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It’s how I leave the past behind.
Eventually, it’s going to be how I leave him behind.
A woman with any interest in safeguarding her heart would run away now. Run far and fast. There are deep-rooted needs inside me for Elijah, though, that keep me glued to the seat in front of him. Those needs urge my mind to justify being his girlfriend for just a little while. Long enough to collect a lifetime of memories to sustain me.
“What would this mean? Would you move into the house?”
Victory flares in his shadowed brow. “Yes.”
My pulse flutters and skips in my neck. “You’re prepared for the media fallout?”
“The media can do their worst as long as you’re safe.” Both of his hands skate up my thighs now. “You’ll have a bodyguard to ensure that happens.”
“Oh, you’re having fun flexing that mayor muscle, aren’t you?” My hips are starting to get antsy on the seat with him so close. So big and in charge and honest and gorgeous. But I need to set the guidelines for this relationship. I need my head to pilot me, not my heart. “I have some caveats.”
“That so?” he drawls, frowning.
“Yes.” I sit up straighter. “I want to keep my own room. Separate from yours.”
His scowl deepens. “Why?”
Because that king-sized sleigh bed where you’re destined to sire your heir makes me nauseous. “There’s nothing wrong with a girl wanting to maintain an air of mystery.”
“You maintain more than most,” he says slowly. “What else?”
I brush a non-existent piece of lint off my shoulder. “We can still see other people.”
Like ex-fiancées or comparable local debutantes.
“No. Hard no.” His hands tighten on my thighs. “I broke the speed limit to get here because I thought you might laugh with someone else. We see each other and no one else, Addison. What the hell are you playing at?”
“Okay,” I breathe, taken aback by the fury in his eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll modify. I-if you decide this has run its course or you’ve changed your mind, there are no hard feelings.”
His voice is soft when he speaks. “And if you change your mind? Why are you only applying this rule to me?”
“Oversight,” I blurt. “It’s for both of us.”
Elijah is quiet so long, I think he’s changed his mind. Or he’s going to try and negotiate the bedroom rule. So I’m relieved when he finally leans in and kisses my forehead, then brings his mouth within a whisper of mine. “Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Elijah
Dancing to the beat of her own drum and shaking up Charleston’s stuffy upper crust. The mayor-elect never knew what hit him. Getaway Girl for the win.
—TheTea.com
Opinion: Bar-hopping Getaway Girl does not “getaway” with lack of dignity.
If she’s governing the mayor-elect, does she in turn govern our principles?
—Southern Insider News
Cell phone cameras lift and snap as I guide Addison from the bar. I should probably be concerned with tomorrow’s gossip section. Should probably be wary of the black sedan idling behind the SUV waiting for us at the curb. It’s most likely a photographer who will snap a shot of us walking into the house together—and that picture will be printed beneath some suggestive headline that will make me see red…but what I’m really concerned about, despite all the noise around us, are Addison’s caveats.
I deserve the distance she’s trying to put between us, don’t I? After the way I checked out the first time we slept together, she’s probably throwing up barriers to protect herself. Yes, she’s just being cautious. I really dislike that I’ve given her a reason to be skeptical of me, though. She might have agreed to be my girlfriend, but she immediately whittled us down to roommates who fuck before returning to their own rooms.
This is what I wanted, right? Walking into the bar tonight, I didn’t plan on asking Addison to be my girlfriend. Commitments and expectations were supposed to remain by the wayside. My course of action changed when faced with her big, beautiful eyes and the husky voice I’ve been going crazy missing. When I said the title out loud, it felt right. It feels distinctly wrong that she didn’t even want it. So am I satisfied that she’s giving me exactly what I wanted? Sex and companionship without the faulty trappings of couplehood? No. I should be. But I’m not.