She glares at me. “So where are we going?”
“My house is—”
“We’re not going to your house.”
I glance at her. “I’m aware.”
I make a turn into the circular drive of one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. Valet steps forward immediately, but I wave them off, guiding us to a private entrance in the back.
Sabrina goes quiet again.
Then she exhales a short, disbelieving laugh. “A hotel?”
I throw the car in park and finally turn to her fully. “Let’s order food. Talk. Enjoy the night.”
I pause. Let my eyes drag over her slowly.
“Our wedding night.”
Her lips part, just slightly.
And fuck me—I want to taste them again.
But all I can think about is how much better tonight would be with her beneath me… her hair wild against silk sheets, my hand tangled in the strands while the other grips that soft, beautiful throat of hers—not hard. Just enough to make her gasp. To make her feel it.
Me.
All of me.
Claiming what’s mine.
I blink hard, dragging myself back tothe moment.
She’s watching me now, like she knows exactly where my mind just went.
Good.
Maybe that’ll help her stop pretending she doesn’t feel this pull between us too.
I get out of the car and move around to her door.
And when I open it—she doesn't move.
I offer my hand anyway.
Her eyes flick from mine to my palm and back again.
And then, slowly… she takes it.
The Weight of a Whisper
Sabrina
Ifollow Langston into the hotel, still trying to make sense of the night.
Elliott. Here. In Chicago.
I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Hadn’t wanted to.
