“In the spring, yes.” I can’t stop the smile from returning to my lips. “I’m going for two weeks. Most of it in Edinburgh, then I’ll take a train to London for the rest.” I take another drink and it isn’t a dainty sip but I don’t care. Being with Storm like this, no movie to occupy our eyes, no Cortland and Remi to knock down the chemistry or the tension, it makes butterflies bounce around in my belly so hard it’s difficult to think.
He lifts his chin and looks down his nose at me. “I’ve seen the photos in your bedroom.”
Something like pleasure runs down my spine. Growing up with three siblings, it often felt like no one actuallysawme.
“Are you going alone?” he presses.
Another gulp of wine. I see my pink lipstick stain along the rim of the glass but quickly return my gaze to Storm’s. His eyes are ethereal. In a past life, he was probably fae, I’m sure of it.I almost laugh out loud at the thought, the wine going to my head, and without answering his question, I blurt it out: “I think you might be part fae.” A giggle leaves my lips and I’m slightly horrified but too happy to care. “Turn your head so I can get a better look at your ears.”
He dips his chin, his gaze locked onto mine. Not a single muscle in his face seems to twitch. No smile, no laugh, nothing.
But then he slowly turns for me, and I trace his ear with my eyes. Gorgeous, and yes, slightly pointed. Fuck, his neck is hot too and…
“Yeah,” I say, my words low. “An elf even.”
He faces me again. “An elf.” He deadpans my words back to me.
I shrug, leaning back in the leather chair. “I said what I said.”
“An elf or a…What was it?”
“Fae.”
He blinks once. “Fae.”
I glance at the light blue hoop in his nose. “The piercing helps too.”
“Does it?” he asks, his head tilted again in that way of his.
“Yeah.” My heart is racing and I’m not quite sure why. “It does.”
His eyes dip to my mouth, then back up. “Come sit with me,” he commands.
I take a shallow breath in and glance at the chair. “What? There’s no room?—”
“In my lap,” he interrupts me.
Without thinking, I tip back all of my wine and swallow the sharp-sweet liquid down. I set the glass on the table, full of our empty plates but I don’t want the waiter back anytime soon even though he was kind of hot.
Maybe I should tell Storm that.
It’s right there on the tip of my tongue when he asks, “What are you thinking right now?” in a way that makes me feel like heknows,which is obviously impossible, but the thought is still there.
“The waiter looks Italian.” It comes tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop it. “And he’s hot.”
Storm is silent.
He doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink.
His forearm is on the table, and I glance at his wrist and notice the watch on it. He wasn’t wearing it during the long drive. I would’ve seen it. It’s silver with a black face and it’s a fucking Rolex.
My pulse jumps. What did he do for the money to buy that?
When I look at him again, he’s still staring at me. “What?” he taunts me. “Now you want to take it back?”
He noticed my expression when I saw the Rolex.
I shake my head. “No, I?—”
