The woman I love more than anything, despite having known her for barely a week.
Funny. That’s how Maddox told me he felt about Alissa, and I held back laughter then.
Now I get it.
When you meet the right person, it’s instantaneous. I fell in love with Bianca practically the moment I met her.
More importantly, I now know she loves me back.
I scoot my chair in the hotel room’s breakfast nook next to hers. “I’d like to keep a low profile today, obviously. Definitely want to check in with Alissa and Maddox.”
“Of course. That’s a given.” She takes another bite of her bagel and swallows. “Anything else? I grew up in Chicago, and I’ve been back for five years, but I’ve never done the tourist traps.”
I flash her a smile. “Neither have I, if I’m honest.” I lean back in my chair. “We could take a walk through Millennium Park, maybe to Navy Pier, see what’s going on there. Stop in Lou Malnati’s or Pequod’s and grab some deep dish. As long as we keep to ourselves, we won’t have to worry about your sister finding out what we’re up to.”
She wipes some cream cheese off her chin. “How about the botanical gardens? I’ve heard they’re lovely.”
“I’ve heard the same.” I lean in and brush my lips against hers. “Though no flower can match your beauty.”
She smirks. “Why do I feel like you’ve used that line on a woman before?”
“Maybe I have.” I shrug. “But I mean it when I say it to you.”
She blushes at my words. “Honestly, I don’t care what we do. As long as we’re together. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, we could just hang out in the hotel room naked all day.”
I immediately start getting hard. I was already halfway there just from her presence, but now I’m at full mast. I give her a grin. “There are worse ways to spend a day.”
She slowly unties the belt of the terrycloth robe she’s wearing, lets it fall around her shoulders. “Oh?”
“Fuck, Bianca.” I sweep an arm under her and take her into my arms, carrying her like a damned baby. “Do you realize how much you drive me crazy?”
“About the same amount you drive me crazy.”
I start to carry her to the hotel bedroom, eyeing the extra cream cheese that came with the bagels—I bet we can put that to some good use—when there’s a rap at the door.
“Ignore it,” she says.
“Yes, my queen.”
But then the knocking again, this time more insistent.
Her eyes widen. “It can’t be…her, can it?”
“God damn it.” I lower her to the floor. “He said he wouldn’t say a word.”
“He?”
“Just get in the bedroom. Lock the door. Open it for no one except for me.”
“Harrison—”
“Now,” I growl.
She blinks a few times but then scampers into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
I turn toward to the knocking and open the door.
A bellhop stands there. Freckled face, wiry red hair. Can’t be older than twenty-one.
