“Chère, please. Little Dude deserves to see it. Hide those cute toes, and you can come.”
“No. I feel sexy and confident when I put on a pair of heels.” A chuckle escaped me, and I stretched out my leg to show off my new heels.
“I’m not carrying you all day if you step into mysterious yellow street gravy.” Montana’s chuckle rumbled deep enough to make me forget the rest of the weight on my chest. We started toward a bar when the sky cracked open.God, are You up there tossing buckets?I need this.
I squealed as a drop smacked me. Maybe that was my answer? God was telling me to cool it. Montana scooped me into his arms and strode over the slick sidewalk.
“Wait! You said you wouldn’t carry me, Montana.” I protested, clutching his peacoat.
He smirked, water dripping from his beard. “Circumstances changed,chère. Those little legs will have us drenched before we get there.”
Miles. He carried me miles, as puddles splashed over his dark jeans. I watched lovers huddling under awnings. I almost snapped my neck looking back. “Hey, let’s?—”
“Non,” he growled. “Your legs too damn short to keep up. You’d drown in the puddles before we hit the block.”
Enjoying the arms wrapped around me, I smacked his chest, laughing. “Excuse me? I meant we could’ve waited under those, yet you badmouth my legs?”
“You heard me. Lil’ baby legs. One of my strides is four of yours. Be grateful,bébé.”
“I was grateful until Big Country started talking smack.”
He hoisted me higher in his arms. “I saw you steal half a pistachio from my ice cream and couldn’t finish it. Lightweight.”
I gasped, half laughing, half scandalized. Rain slanted into my face, so I rubbed my eyes against the peacoat covering his broad chest. “That’s because I hated it. So, stop. I throw down when the food’s good.”
When the hotel finally emerged in the rainy distance, Diana Redux plastered wet against my face. The Paris lights blurred through the rain. The doorman hustled forward with an umbrella. Montana cut him off with a low, dismissive rumble. “She ain’t hiding under nothing but me.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, replacing the cold. I chuckled, mortified, and secretly thrilled, as he carried me, our bodies dripping on the granite lobby floor. “Now I get why we couldn’t wait under the awning. ‘She ain’t hiding under nothing but me, huh?’ ”
Montana didn’t put me down when he pressed the elevatorbutton with his elbow. His wet beard dripped onto my shoulder. The beard oil smelled sweet and succulent. His chest solid against me. “Relax. He didn’t understand me.”
“You better hope so,” I murmured, though my pulse fluttered wild.
Because I understood.
Weeks ago, Big Country was easier to deny. Thelegendhelped me draw a parallel to Edwin. Not in any sick, twisted way—after Doctor Jekyll became Mr. Hyde. But the other parallels—the playboy ways, which I was confident he justified. He had to justify them. His mom was a saint! I know she raised Montana better than that. So, I was sure Big Country told himself he onlydippedinto girls who didn’t care.
However, too much laughter and tension stood between me and denying him anymore.
Here I was in Paris, clinging to Montana. My only safe place left on earth.
My … safe … place.
Jesus, if You wanna make him my forever home, I’m up for that too.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Montana carried me past a couple eating each other’s faces, who blocked the elevator exit. They gasped when our wet clothes got on them.
I buried my face in his neck to hide my laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
He bent close, his breath hot against my ear. “And I’m yours, Zuri.”
The words dropped into me like a stone rippling in water, so peacefully I lost my breath. Speechless.For thirty days or …?
By the time he carried me into the suite, my nerves stretched tighter than a violin string. He put me down real soft and removed my leather jacket and shoes. His hands then massaged my toes before he pressed them against his mouth.
“So glad you aren’t worried about any puddles here.” I moaned, laughing.
“Nope.” He popped my big toe into his mouth, then put my feetdown before tugging from his peacoat. Threw it somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere outta sight. His hand stayed firm at my waist, anchoring me. My curly wet wig clung to my cheeks. My dress plastered against my skin. Almost every inch of me was available to him.
