“I did it for me.” She tilts her head, takes my hand. “I don’t love him.”
I laugh lightly. “Good.”
What I mean is that’s fucking great.
“I want you to know that.”
That’s more than great. It’s perfect, and I do my best to keep a stoic face while inside I’m pumping a fist in victory. I’m so fucking happy she’s over him. This, right here, is the definition of happiness.
“Okay,” I say calmly, since letting on how much this knowledge thrills me might push her away.
“I’m not holding on to him. I need you to know that. I held on to the bottle because it was a gift from my blog readers.”
Ohhhh.
“The plot thickens,” I say playfully, since her response makes precisely the kind of sense I want it to make. Selfishly, I like her explanation a lot—her past is well and truly her past. “You weren’t ever holding on to something from him, then. You were holding on to something from people you miss having a connection with. You should reconnect with them.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
I grab her hand, looping my fingers through hers. Our rings touch. As I gaze at our joined hands, our metal connecting, I remember doing the same with Hannah. Holding the hand of my first wife nine years ago, did I feel the same with her as I do in this moment?
I loved Hannah. I don’t question that. But did I feel like this? This sort of unexpected awareness of the way a person affects you, deep in your body, far into your mind?
I feel like I could talk to Elise about anything. I never had that with Hannah.
“You do know I’m over Hannah, right? It was years ago, but still. In case you were wondering.” I need her to know there’s no competition from the past—no ghost, no poignant memory. “I don’t have baggage.”
“You do seem remarkably baggage-free,” she says with a smile. “But is being baggage-free your baggage?”
I shake my head. “If you’re asking if I’m tied to my single lifestyle or have some über-commitment to being a playboy, I’m sure Griffin would say yes —”
“Why on earth would Griffin say yes?”
“Oh, I used to tell him my dream was to become a kept man of some gorgeous, brilliant older woman.”
She smacks me. “You’re terrible. Preying on older women.”
I kiss her shoulder. “I can’t resist them.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you truly attracted to me because I’m four years older than you?”
“Umm . . .”
“Seriously?”
“No. That’s not it, but I think you’re fascinating. You intrigue me. I like that you’re not focused on the same things a twenty-five-year-old is focused on. You’re building a stellar international business, you’re taking care of yourself, and you’re looking out for friends. You have all this rich life experience, and yeah, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it attractive. So sue me.”
She pushes a hand against my chest. “Fine, then I like that you’re younger than me.”
“Oh yeah? You like boy toys?”
She scoffs. “Not in the least. I like it because it means you’re more thoughtful.”
“It does?”
She nods. “You’re pretty damn thoughtful, Christian, and that’s incredibly attractive.”
I yank her closer. Maybe because of her compliments, possibly because we’ve moved past a wall, I say what I wanted to say a little while ago. “That was really intense against the door, wasn’t it?”
She trembles. Like a muscle memory from sex moves through her. “It was crazy intense,” she whispers. “We barely said a word to each other at the club.”
“I think I sort of attacked you. In my defense, you sent that photo in your black lace, and I did give you fair warning.”
She drags a hand down my shirt, unbuttoning it. “I liked being attacked like that. I liked the intensity of it.”
“It wasn’t too much for you?” I ask as she spreads open my shirt, and I push off the sleeves.
“I was wound up for you all day. As I walked around, I felt this tightening in my body, like a jack-in-the-box, wanting to see you.”
Lust climbs up my legs, weaves through my chest as I undo the wrap on her dress, letting the fabric fall apart. “I felt it too. What is that all about? It was like a crazy drumbeat.” I tap my chest. “Right here.”
She nods, and there’s a savage look in her eyes, a fierceness. “Once I saw you, it was like an explosion. Like we detonated. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex that intense before.”
The caveman in me thumps his fists. “I haven’t either. But when I see you, Elise, I want to take you.” I cup her jaw, holding her close. “I want to take you hard, and relentlessly, and I want to get so fucking close to you that you let go of everything.”
She shivers. “When you fuck me like that, I feel consumed.”
“Does that scare you?”
