“Darcy!” I spin around and wonder where my breath went because it’s obviously no longer in my body. The sight of his rippled chest, however, is burned into my brain… right alongside the image of him naked in the hospital, which is making a reappearance.
And kissing me until my bones turned to sludge on this bed yesterday.
“I’m only changing my shirt.” I can hear the proud smirk he’s donning. “Done.”
I don’t risk turning around. “Can I have some privacy to change, then?”
“I’ll be back in…thirty-five minutes.” The door opens then closes. But it cracks open once more, and his sharp face fills the doorway. “And Hayden, I don’t have to act like I’m in love with you.” The door clicks shut.
Words catch in my throat as he disappears. Was that—? Did he—?Love?
I forget about Loveless and accusations and Darcy’s father.
Darcy Marshall basically said he loved me.
Taking in a huge breath, I plop back down on the bed and wonder where (and when) in the world Darcy Marshall found the audacity to take my breath away. How did we get here? How did he make me fall in love with him in the span of a few months?He’s so much more than the hard, cold exterior he presents to most people. He’s more than the media mask he wears for interviews, rallies, events, and dinners. He’s a bundle of juxtapositions: warm and cool, worried and confident, sensitive and dominant.
A perfectly imperfect man.
I change into a short, white dress with lace that I know he’ll love.
He knocks on the door exactly when he said he would, and I invite him in like it isn’t the room we are sharing.
Darcy opens the door, holding a bouquet of yellow roses. “For you,” he says, and I take the flowers, sniff the pleasant smell once, and then place them on the bed.
My heart beats wildly, and I’m dying to ask him if he meant he loves me. I also want to scream that I love him, but the only words on my tongue are, “You should wear yellow more often.” Because my word, the man looks like sunshine. The lemon-yellow shirt and his golden blond hair light up his blue eyes. He emanates light instead of his usual shades of gray.
“You look rather good in the dress.” I stifle a laugh at his compliment. His flirting game may be strong when it’s rolling off his tongue in the heat of the moment, but when he’s trying to flirt, it’s too controlled and stiff.
“Thank you.”
He takes my hand, and we walk to the elevator. I look around, and his agents are nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s security?”
“They’re around. I asked for privacy.”
The elevator door dings open, and I swallow the rising lump in my throat. We step on. His hand tightens around mine. Is hefighting the wicked tension I feel too? Thoughts of spicy elevator kisses speed through my mind, and in each of the scenarios, Darcy and I are the lead actors.
The door shuts.
Before I have the opportunity to ask him my burning question, Darcy pins me against the wall, where the feel of the cool metal seeps through the light silky fabric of my dress, the lace around the edges pressing into my skin. One large hand grabs both of my wrists, and he drags them above my head as my breaths become labored in anticipation.Just like every fantasy…
His fingers trail up my side as I wiggle against him because of the thrilling sensation. Our eyes lock. His blue irises are dark with desire just as his touch sets me aflame. He slips his hand behind my neck and peppers me with kisses along my jaw. Each press of his lips and slip of his tongue along my skin is like a crashing wave of need, and I want so much more. Giving myself over to the tingly sensation, my eyes flutter closed.
“Kiss me,” I beg.I love you.
His body rumbles against me as his lips trail to the other side of my jaw. My ear. “Later, Princess.”
Darcy nips at the lobe of my ear before releasing one of my hands and intertwining his fingers with my other hand, moving to stand by my side.
The elevator comes to a stop, the doors open, and the cool lobby air flows over us and washes away the passion as if nothing happened. His hand loosens around mine, but he doesn’t let go.
We spot Stella and Lucas standing near a small, cherubim fountain in the middle of the lobby, and she waves us over.
“Ready for—” she trails off, taking in what I imagine to be the expression of a lovesick, thoroughly kissed woman. She laughs and arches her brow. “Should we postpone and you two head back up to the room?”
Darcy, to my surprise, shrugs, wearing an impish grin.It makes me almost want to say yes…
