As he walks up the stairs, I realize how one-sided our interaction was. Again. He didn’t get to come like I did, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he made me feel like a goddess.
That type of selflessness in the bedroom isn’t something I’m used to.
On Saturday, I’m going to make it up to him.
Big-time.
And, God, judging by the looks of him, it will be big.
Very, very big.
CHAPTER26
8 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
Poppy
Belleand I spent a busy morning helping to get the Holly Hill Inn set up for the ball. In the late afternoon, I drop her off at her sleepover, which she’s both excited and apprehensive about. As I pull back into the lake house’s driveway, my stomach does a funny little flip when I see Ronan’s car.
Ronan, whose mouth has been on and in my most intimate places.
I walk in the door, but he isn’t downstairs. It’s possible he’s taking a nap since he worked through the night and must be exhausted.
I look at my watch. I don’t have much time to get ready before we have to leave for the Christmas ball.
It strikes me that my emotions are not dissimilar to Belle’s for her first sleepover. I guess it will probably be Ronan’s and my first sleepover as well. I feel both apprehension and excitement. I know it’s stupid to fall so hard for a man who will ultimately break my heart, even if it’s not his fault. But I can’t regret it.
I open the door to my room, thinking about how I have less than an hour to shower, do my hair and makeup, and put on my only gown, a black dress that’s flattering, even if it isn’t the most festive.
That’s when I see it.
A dress hanging in the window. It’s Christmas red. I reach out to touch it. The material is soft and gauzy, with a classic elegance and just the right amount of sexy in the off-the-shoulder design.
“Do you like it?” a deep voice asks behind me.
I turn to Ronan, looking devastatingly handsome in dress slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt open a few buttons. If this is how he looks only partially ready for the night, I can’t imagine my reaction to him in a suit. Thank God it’s not a tux affair because I probably wouldn’t survive.
I turn back to the dress. “It’s incredible,” I say. I take it from the hanger and hold it up to me. It’s the perfect length.
“How did you know my size?”
A smile whispers across his face. “I know every inch of your body.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. I have to look away or I fear I’ll tackle him. And then we wouldn’t show for the ball. It’s tempting.
I run my hand over the dress, marveling anew at the softness of the fabric, but when I see the tag, I freeze.
“Ronan!” I hiss. “This is Dior!”
“And?”
“It’s Dior. I can’t afford a dress like this.”
“Then it’s a good thing I bought it and not you.”
I see another hanger with a white cape.
“The cape is Dior also!”
