The Bachelor Contract(62)
“Where am I following you to?”
“On our fourth date, we went stargazing. I wanted you so damn bad—wanted to slam you against the nearest wall, and, well”—he grinned—“you can probably fill the rest of that vivid image in. The point is, you wanted to freaking star-gaze. And I couldn’t say no, even though my body hated me. So, I came up with an idea. If we star-gazed, then I could at least feel you up, and if I felt you up, then you’d most likely kiss me, and if you kissed me, maybe I would get some action.”
“Your mind’s a terrifying place.”
He laughed, then took her arm again and led her outside to the large patio overlooking the resort. The hum of the outdoor hot tub filled the air along with the strong smell of chemicals. He’d purposefully turned off all the lights in an effort to make it romantic and to see the stars, and he was momentarily pissed when he looked up and it was cloudy.
Maybe it would clear up?
Not that it mattered. He knew she couldn’t see them, but that was part of his plan.
He let go of her hand long enough to grab the nearby blanket and laid it on the ground next to the cheap champagne and plastic Solo cups.
“All right, just lay back here.” He helped her sit down and then very carefully sat down behind her, straddling her.
She tensed.
“Is this okay?”
“Is this how our date went?”
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember loving the stars and telling you it was one of my favorite dates.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “And I remember that you smelled really good back then.”
“And I don’t now?”
She laughed and tensed a bit in his arms like she was afraid to relax. “You always smell good. It’s really irritating, believe me.”
“Are you saying I irritate you?”
“Not right now.” She breathed out a sigh and scooted back against him. “Okay, Brant, tell me about the stars.”
He glanced up and almost told her the truth. No stars. Nothing but heavy clouds that threatened to burst open at any minute.
But God, her face.
She was smiling—it was everything.
His throat burned as he watched her expectant face. “They look like glitter in the sky, like thousands of diamonds twinkling just for us. I see”—his hands moved to her face as he gazed into her eyes—“I see fire and passion. I see joy, beauty…I see you.”
“In the stars?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t take his gaze away from her face. “In the stars.”
He kissed her.
She pulled away and stared ahead. “Is this the part where I get felt up?”
“God, I hope so.”
She laughed. A real laugh.
He didn’t kiss her.
Knew that it wasn’t time yet, that she didn’t trust him enough not to do something stupid, and since his track record had pointed toward stupid he sat there, content with just holding her.
Until a raindrop slapped his cheek. And then another. He ignored them and kept kissing her. Until a crack of thunder sounded.
“I don’t remember this happening on our date,” she joked, crawling out of his lap. He wrapped the blanket around her to protect her from the storm and guided her back inside the hotel room.
“Shit.” He almost forgot the champagne. Brant ran back outside, getting his clothes completely soaked as he picked up the champagne and the cups. When he got back inside, she was laying the blanket on a nearby table.
“Everything okay?” she asked. Her eyes searched the room, darting from left to right in an effort to either focus on him or whatever direction he was coming from. His throat burned. His heart ached. He’d done that to her. He’d broken her and then broken them.
“Yeah.” He licked his lips and slowly moved toward Nikki. “Everything’s great.”
“It was a good date.” She put a hand out and placed it on his chest then moved it to his shoulder.
He took her fingertips in his hand and then kissed her cheek. “Date’s not over yet.”
“Because you never felt me up?” she joked.
“Well, that, and because we never drank our cheap champagne.”
Her eyes lit up. “Please tell me it’s the grocery store Brut that only costs four dollars and ninety-four cents.”
“The one and only.” He laughed. “You remember?”
“Only important things like the fact that you bought it for me every year on my birthday. To go along with the homemade pasta.”
“And when you say homemade, you mean—”
“You bought the box mac and cheese and put a candle in it, yes. That kind of homemade.”
“I’m a wizard with mac and cheese, admit it.”