“Stop,” I squeal between giggles. “I’m too heavy.”
“You’re what?” Zane freezes momentarily. “I bench press more than your weight. You just want me to put you down, but it’s not happening until we get to the car. We have a flight to book.”
I laugh at his craziness and let my body go limp, accepting my fate.
“God, I wish everyone else saw this side of you.”
“No can do, Little B. This is for you and you alone. Always has been.”
We pull up at a beautiful apartment building with a marble archway and pillars so grand they make my jaw drops as a shiver runs through me. I’ve been a ball of nerves since we got off the plane, and I can’t quite pinpoint what it is that has me so worried. Seven years ago, I would have given anything to spend a week with Zane, but just like back then, we have to hide our relationship—even if we’re only friends—so maybe that’s it. Or maybe I’m worried that even if I try to love it here, I still won’t find my place in this world.
Yes, I have issues and constantly put too much pressure on myself, but I need a purpose or I’m going to go insane.Vacationing with Zane is not going to help with that. Though it will be nice.
Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my leg and smile to myself. It’s going to be good for us. “I’ve got to be honest, Fitzpatrick,” I say with my eyes on his building, finding my inner strength. “This doesn’t feel like you.”
“You mean you don’t think of me as a pretentious millionaire with rich taste.”
“Nope. I always pictured you in a beach house.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Here’s another one of those ‘we don’t know each other as well as we think we do’ moments.”
“Really?”
“Nope. It’s a rental close to the stadium that has a doorman and great gym. I chose it because it was the first one I saw, and I was already sick of looking.”
I nod, biting back a smart-ass response. That decision-making process is exactly what I’d expect from Zane. I was always the planner. He was always the one to make decisions on the fly. Unless it came to making our relationship public. That was well thought out and nothing was ever going to change his mind.
“I’d love to find a beach house one day,” he adds, and I laugh. “But for now, welcome to my home sweet home. Your home for the week.”
“How many bedrooms do you have?” I ask as a doorman opens my door.
Zane jumps out on his own and jogs to the trunk, grabbing my bags. Plural. Because rather than unpack and repack the suitcases I’m living out of, I just brought the two that housed my winter clothes, a couple of nice dresses, and my workout gear. Much to Zane’s pleasure, since that meant we could leave sooner.
“I have two bedrooms,” he tells me, waving me off when I try to grab one of my bags. “Before you say anything, the second isreserved for those I share a platonic relationship with. I’m afraid since we’ve kissed, that rules you out.”
“How many other non-platonic relationships have you had in your room?”
“Lucky for me, none.”
“Lucky for you?”
“Yep. Because I have a feeling that if I’d had anyone else in my bed, there’s no way you’d be considering sleeping there right now.”
“You’re half right.”
“Only half?” He pauses before we’ve reached the huge glass doors.
“Yes. I’m not considering it. I’ve made up my mind.”
“And?”
“Since you’re not going to touch me until I’m ready, it’s a yes. I’ll sleep in your room.”
A groan rumbles from the back of Zane’s throat, and his hands clench around the handles of my suitcases, the movement causing the veins in his arms to bulge beneath the ink of his tattoos. God, it’s sexy.
I gulp, my gaze traveling from his wrist to the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve.
“B—” Zane warns, snapping me out of my trance.
