“Sadie can get away with wearing that stuff. Not me.” My words are muffled against his shoulder. I breathe deeply. Damn. He smells so good.
“That’s bullshit. You can wear whatever you want.”
I reluctantly pull away, aware of just how intimately we’re standing together.
I busy myself picking through the clothes, shaking my head more and more at each item. I hold up a lace thong with a raised eyebrow.
“No?” he asks hopefully.
I glare. “I’m going to get you back for thisGirls Gone Wildsuitcase.”
He swallows, looking nervously at me. “It’ll be fixed,” he promises. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Because he has the kind of unlimited resources where you can make a phone call and an entire wardrobe gets delivered to the door.
And that’s when it strikes me—he’sgoing to fix it. Not me. Normally, I’m the one paddling madly to smooth things over and make magic happen for other people. And now, someone else—likely Matt—will be my fairy godmother, and I’ll get to reap the rewards, in the guise of a wardrobe for the week likely far nicer than I could ever afford myself.
“I’ll be waiting. In the bath. And when I come out…” I say, warning in my voice.
“When you come out, you’ll have all the clothes you would ever need,” he finishes. “And more.”
I nod and step into the sumptuous black-and-white-tiled bathroom, looking at the large claw-foot tub in anticipation. If anything will calm me, it will be this.
I close the door with a firm click and unzip my dress, let it fall to the cool tile, and adjust the taps of the tub, adding gel into the water that creates bubbles and makes the entire bathroom smell of gardenias.
I remove the rest of my clothes and sink into the water with a deep sigh.
As I’m soaking, I hold out my hand and admire the sparkle of my temporary engagement ring, wondering what Sebastian meant by the phraseandmore.
I’m hyperconscious that he’s on the other side of the door. I realize I never locked it. What would he do if he walked in and found me, clad only in bubbles? I run my hand over my breasts, shivering as awareness shoots throughout my body and to my center.
A knock sounds at the door. “Emma?”
I splash and cover myself madly, my heartbeat loud in my ears at Sebastian’s voice. What is this witchcraft? It’s as if he knew what I was thinking.
“Yes?” My voice is high and unnatural.
“Can I come in?”
“No! I’m naked.”
“Not really a deterrent, Em.” His laugh is low and dark and knowing. It’s a New York street in the rain-soaked night. It’s whisky on ice. It’s a long drive at 2 a.m. with only headlights illuminating the road ahead.
I run a hand over my face, the water suddenly too hot. “What do you want?” I sound eager. Breathless.
“I just need to tell you something.”
“Go ahead.”
The soundproofing in this historic place must not be great because I hear him let out a loud breath from the other side of the door. “I-I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry about the mix-up. If I ever fuck up—and let’s be honest, I probably will because the last thing I am is perfect—I will use everything in my power to make it right.Always.There will never be a time when I won’t move the earth or stars for you.”
“O-okay,” I breathe. I can’t understand this. Nothing adds up. Nothing computes. It’s as if somewhere between the hospitaland here, the entire landscape of our relationship has shifted. But I only know our old coordinates.
“I-is this about the clothes?” I ask, knowing it can’t only be about that but needing him to spell it out for me.
“It’s about more.”
There’s that word again.More.
