"Good morning," she mumbles. The shy smile that follows makes my heart flutter.
"Good morning, beautiful." I brush a strand of hair away from her face.
She stretches, a yawn escaping her as she looks up at me. "What time is it?" she asks, though she doesn't seem particularly concerned about the answer.
I glance at the bedside clock over her shoulder. "Almost nine. Should we get up?"
"No," she says, snuggling closer. "Let's stay in bed a little longer. The brunch Mom organized isn't until eleven." She rubs her eyes. "We're getting together with Emma, David, and the extended family that came from different states. Just because we never get to see them, you know? We're meeting at a farm-to-table restaurant not far from here. I think there will be around twenty people."
"Okay," I say, stroking her cheek. "Should I dress up?"
"No, it’s super casual."
I can't resist leaning in to capture her lips in a slow, lazy kiss. It's different from last night's desperate passion—gentler, more tender, but no less affecting. When we break apart, there’s something vulnerable in her eyes.
"Blair?" she says.
"Yes?"
She shakes her head then, looking away. "Never mind."
"No, tell me," I say, cupping her chin to face me. "What is it?"
Liv hesitates, her teeth worrying her bottom lip in a way that's both adorable and distracting because it makes me want to kiss her senseless.
"Would you like to meet up when we're back in New York?" She pauses, then adds hastily, "I mean, we're obviously good in bed together, so maybe we could... you know. Meet up for a bit of fun sometimes."
I grin at her attempt to make it sound casual. "Are you asking me to be your booty call?"
Her face flushes a beautiful shade of pink, and she looks mortified. "God, when you put it like that, it sounds terrible."
"How about I take you on a date first?" I suggest.
"A date?" she repeats, her eyes widening like the concept is foreign to her.
"Yeah, dinner, maybe a movie." She's still staring at me, so I add, "You know what a date is, right?"
"Stop it." She gives me a playful nudge. "Yes, I know what a date is, and yes... Why not?"
"Really? You want to go on a date with me? With a broke personal trainer?"
She laughs. "Actually, yeah. I would."
"Great," I say, relieved she brought it up. If she hadn't, I would have gone to great lengths to see her again one way or another.
When she looks at me, she sees someone she's attracted to, someone she enjoys spending time with, someone she wants to get to know better. She doesn't see dollar signs or opportunity or a ticket to a more luxurious lifestyle. She just sees me—or at least, the version of me I've chosen to show her.
It feels good to know for certain that someone likes me for who I am, not what I have. And the fact that that someone is Liv—brilliant, complicated Liv who doesn't trust easily and has every reason to be cynical—makes it even more meaningful.
I should tell her the truth right now. I should explain that I'm not actually a struggling personal trainer, that I can afford to take her to any restaurant in the city or anywhere in the world for that matter.
She's been vulnerable with me in ways I don't think she's been with anyone in years, and here I am, still lying to her about the most basic facts of my existence. The guilt gnaws at me, but I push it down. I'll tell her when we're back in New York. Back in reality. Now is not the right time.
Before I can say any more, she's kissing me again, her mouth soft and eager. This time there's more heat behind it, her tonguesliding against mine as her hand begins to wander over my breasts. My body responds, awakening under her touch.
"Liv," I murmur, though I make no move to stop her as her hand trails lower.
"Mmm?" she hums, nipping at my bottom lip.
