“So did you,” I say softly. “I was starting to think you liked watching more than being caught.”
A low sound leaves him, half amusement, half something darker. “I followed you for an hour.”
“I know.”
That gets his attention.
I turn then, finally, and he’s standing impossibly close, his dark eyes burning intently into mine.
“Show me the dress,” he says, his voice a deep growl.
I lift a brow. “You’re not even pretending this is innocent.”
“I stopped pretending with you a long time ago.”
I step back slowly, letting the curtain fall closed again. I don’t rush. I don’t need to. The moment I slip my dress off my shoulders, his restraint snaps. He grabs my waist and seals his mouth over mine in a hard, possessive kiss. I moan into his mouth, my arms coming around his neck. His hand roams my body, grabbing and caressing, sending streaks of pleasure zapping through me.
By the time we pull apart, I’m flushed and breathless and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
I don’t bother trying the dress on.
“I’ll take it,” I tell the woman at the counter a few minutes later. My cheeks are flushed and hair slightly out of place. She must have guessed what went on in the dressing room because she hands back Zane’s card with a knowing smile that makes me flush even deeper.
Zane’s hand rests at the small of my back as he walks me out of the boutique, steady and possessive and entirely unapologetic.
In the car, I ask him the question that’s been at the back of my mind since I noticed him following me. “What happened with the trip to Boston? Was Mick’s meeting canceled?”
“No,” he replies, his lips curving in a mysterious smile. “Everything today went exactly according to schedule.”
I blink at him in confusion.
What the hell does that mean?
Zane
Well, maybe not exactly to plan.
Georgia took longer to get restless than I expected. I’d counted on her impatience kicking in sooner, on that familiar itch that sends her searching for an adventure. But she’d taken her sweet time, and it’d cost me mine.
I adjusted on the fly. I always do.
By the time she finally left the hotel, I was already on the move. Everything was in place…or close enough. I tracked her the way I’ve learned to track her now, a small dot gliding through the city on my phone screen. It’s easier these days. Legal. Consensual. Still, it felt like an old habit wrapped in something safer.
I followed at a distance. Close enough to feel her presence. Far enough not to be seen.
When she stepped into that boutique, I told myself I’d wait. Told myself I’d give her a minute, but I didn’t last thirty seconds.
The dressing room is a distraction I don’t regret.
Now we’re back at the hotel. I hadn’t given her a clue about my plans on the way back, but she can be very observant, so I can only hope she’s still in the dark about my surprise.
I guide her down the long hallway that leads to our suite, keeping my hand on the small of her back. When we get to the door, I push it open and take a step back.
She gasps.
Rose petals spill across the floor, the bed, the low table near the windows. Soft light glows from lamps I repositioned myself, and the bed is filled with wrapped boxes of gifts I picked out and a handwritten card that reads “Happy Valentine’s, my little mouse.”
I watch it hit her all at once, the surprise, the emotion she tries and fails to hide.
