"You have no idea how much I wanted to do this for you. To see you somewhere beautiful, away from everything weighing you down."
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, soft and sweet. When I pull back, his gaze drags down to my mouth and lingers there, his breathing rougher, his hands more possessive on my waist.
"I made dinner reservations," he says, voice rough. "There's this restaurant on the sixteenth floor. Amazing views, better food."
"Sounds perfect." I glance at my travel-rumpled clothes and wind-blown hair. "I should probably clean up first, though."
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, taking in every inch of me with such naked appreciation that heat licks up my throat, flooding my neck and face until I’m sure he can see me go pink under his stare.
"Let me help you with that."
The words send a thrill through me, part anticipation, part nervousness. I've never been good at this part, at being desired, at letting someone see me vulnerable. But with Axel, I want to try.
"I'd like that," I say softly.
His smile turns predatory as he backs me toward the enormous bathroom but all I feel is the heat of his body, therough scrape of his knuckles riding up under my shirt. “We have an hour before dinner.” His voice is low, pure command. “Plenty of time to strip you down, get you wet, watch you come apart for me.” My pulse stutters, knees threatening to give, every nerve alive and waiting for his touch.
I feelhis eyes on me as I step out of the shower, the warm steam curling around us in the luxurious bathroom. There's something different about Axel tonight, a possessiveness in his gaze that makes my skin tingle. When he wraps the plush hotel towel around me, his hands linger at my waist a beat too long.
"We're going to be late for dinner," I murmur, but I don't move away.
"Worth it," he says, dropping a kiss on my shoulder before reluctantly stepping back. "But I've been thinking about the rib eye all day, so maybe we should hurry."
I slip into my dress with trembling fingers, keenly aware of Axel’s gaze tracing every inch of exposed skin. The soft drag of fabric, the heat in his eyes—it’s anything but comfortable. It’s new, electric, fraught with the promise of everything still unsaid. He buttons his shirt slowly, watching me in the mirror, and I feel naked beneath his attention, desperate for him to touch me again.
"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious. "Is it too much?"
"It's perfect," he says, his voice rough. "You're perfect."
I roll my eyes to hide how much his words affect me. "Hardly."
He crosses the room and turns me toward the mirror, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. "Look at yourself, Sadie. Really look."
I meet my reflection's eyes reluctantly. I look different somehow, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair falling in soft waves around my face. Less guarded. Almost pretty.
“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, voice gravel deep. “You belong to me tonight. Every inch.”
My throat closes, a hot flush moving through me, low and deep. I want to look away but I can’t. Every cell in my body lights up at the way he says mine. I’ve spent years building walls, surviving for Poppy, but right now, I want to be just a woman in a man’s hands. The idea of being his, even briefly, is terrifying. It’s also everything I’ve secretly craved.
The restaurant is even more spectacular than Axel described. The city glitters around us and the mountains stand dark against the sky. The host leads us to a corner table with panoramic views, and Axel's hand settles at the small of my back as we walk.
"Wine?" he asks once we're seated, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand where it rests on the table.
"Please.”
Axel orders a bottle of something expensive-sounding, his easy confidence with the wine list making me smile. He's in his element here, comfortable in this upscale setting in a way I'm not. But instead of making me feel out of place, his confidence makes me feel confident.
"What?" he asks, catching my smile.
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I just like watching you."
His gaze pins to my mouth, his jaw going still like he’s holding back a smile, or something a lot more dangerous.
"Careful," he murmurs, leaning closer. "I might not make it through dinner if you keep looking at me like that."
The waiter returns with our wine, and Axel takes charge of the tasting ritual with practiced ease. When our glasses are filled, he raises his in a toast.
"To new beginnings," he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
