eyes skim over me too. Slowly. Lingering.
“Okay,” she says nervously, brushing invisible lint off the skirt. “You can stop staring anytime now.”
I don’t.
Can’t.
Won’t.
—
—
She flicks her gaze back to me, and there’s this shift like she suddenly realises what she’s doing to me. Her cheeks warm, eyes flickering to my jaw, then lower. Her breath hitches, and yeah – she sees it now. The heat between us. The barely–holding–it–together hunger I’m not bothering to hide.
“Jesus,” I mutter, finally, and lean back against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping me upright./
Her brows pinch. “Too much?”
“Not even close.” I step toward her slowly, careful, reverent. “You look…”
I stop, because beautiful doesn’t cut it. Hot doesn’t even scratch the surface. And I refuse to use a word like sexy when what I’m feeling is something closer to awe.
She shifts, uncomfortable. “It’s not- I mean, it’s short. And kind of ridiculous.”
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I shake my head, eyes never leaving hers. “You could walk into that place barefoot in that dress, and I’d still be the proudest bastard in the building.”
Her lips twitch. The start of a smile she’s trying to fight. She doesn’t
win.
She glances at my chest again, at the open collar, at the way I’m looking at her like she’s a miracle. I see her swallow. I see her pulse jump.
“I’m still not sure about this,” she murmurs, tugging at the hem.
I take her hand, gently, and kiss her knuckles. “Sit.”
She raises a brow. “We’ve been over this. I’m not a dog.”
I grin. “You’re right. You’re the love of my life. I’m just trying to keep your knees from buckling while I put your coat on, because, sweetheart, if you looked at me the way I just looked at you, I’d be clinging to furniture.“.
–
–
That earns me a full laugh — bright and breathless and I swear it’s the best sound I’ve heard in days.
She sits. I kneel. Help her into her coat with the kind of care I’ve never given anything in my life. And when I rise again, she’s looking up at me like I hung the stars — like I’m the only thing in the room worth staring at.
I can’t help myself.
I dip down, catching her mouth with mine, lips dark with that perfect red lipstick that’s now officially my new addiction. She tastes sweet like sugar and sin and something I’d happily spend the rest of my life worshipping.
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I kiss her like I mean it. Like I’ve been waiting all night. Like I’d cancel the dinner, the reservation, the whole damn world just to stay here and feel her melt against me.
And when she kisses back – her mouth hot and eager, tongue
brushing mine, hands slipping up my chest
–
every thought flies out
the window.
Except one.
I want her. Right now. Right here. Forget the dress. Forget the
restaurant.
But just as quickly, she pulls back, breathless, and grins when she sees
- me.
“Your lips are red now.”
―
—
She tries to swipe her thumb across my mouth, but I catch it between my teeth, biting down gently. She gasps a soft, startled sound — and I feel her flush beneath my hands, cheeks gone cherry–hot.
And God, I love her.
“I love you,” I say, just because. Because they’re my favourite words now. Because they’re true every time I look at her. Because nothing feels better than watching the way her eyes soften when she hears them
–
She smiles wide, radiant, completely wrecking me.
“I love you too.”
And that’s it. Game over
We’re both completely, irreversibly, done for
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Chapter 185
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EMILIA
When Liam’s car slows down in front of a dimly lit corner building that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the sixties, I blink. Then blink again.
“This is it?” I ask, glancing at the faded awning that reads Montgomery Books. There’s no line. No valet. Not even a single overpriced candle on the sidewalk to signal ambience.
Liam doesn’t answer — just grins and gets out first, circling around to open the door for me like the insufferable gentleman he is. “Trust me.”
“I’m in stilettos.” I mutter, carefully stepping out. “If this ends with us being mugged in an alley, I’m haunting you.”
He just laughs that low, warm sound that makes me instantly suspicious — and takes my hand.
We walk in.
–
It’s… a bookstore. Actually. A real, slightly dusty, barely–lit bookstore that smells like ink and old paper. A little bell chimes overhead and I glance at Liam, confused. “You’re taking me to dinner here?”
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