“You’re such a tease.”
“Not enough time for me to do what I want.” His mouth is on my neck, nibbling on my ear. When his hand slides up my skirt and between my legs, I nearly lose my balance. “Hmm.”
Before the elevator dings, Louis pulls back with a grin. The doors open to the lobby, and he offers me his hand like we weren’t just seconds away from doing something scandalous.
The lobby is marble, classical music, and hushed voices. People don’t stare at The Park. I spot Nolan through the glass doors, leaning against the car with his arms crossed. When he sees us, he straightens and opens the back door.
“Ready?” Louis asks.
“Yes,” I tell him as he interlocks his fingers with mine.
We walk out onto the sidewalk, and there’s a crowd of paps waiting to take our photo. The two of us are all smiles. He does the friendly Prince Charming wave, and I laugh as he leads me forward.
Nolan nods. “Good to see you again, Miss Cross. Your Highness.”
The flashes are blinding.
“You can call me Louis.”
“I absolutely willnot. Some of us have manners around here.”
We slide into the back seat, and then Nolan closes the door behind us.
He gets in the driver’s seat and catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Back to the loft?”
“Please.”
He pulls away from the curb and into traffic while Louis laces his fingers through mine.
The paparazzi gather on the sidewalk, trying to press their cameras against the window. We take off, and I watch them shrink in the side mirror until they disappear.
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Louis says. “Deal-breaker?”
I smirk. “I don’t think one exists.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“For better or worse, right?”
He wraps his arm around me, kissing my forehead as he leans against the seat, watching the buildings pass by. “Man, I love New York,” he whispers.
I look up at him, studying his jaw while listening to his heartbeat. The smile might be permanent. We ride in comfortable silence through Midtown, watching the city slide past us. His thumb brushes against my arm. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment.
He came for me, and we’re together.
For the first time since I left Montclaire, the tight knot in my stomach finally disappears.
34
LOUIS
The elevator opens directly into her loft, and I step inside, immediately understanding why she loves it here.
Exposed brick lines the far wall, and it’s warm in the late afternoon. Canvases lean against every surface. Some are finished or close to being done. Others are just sketched and waiting for color. Paint clothes are folded off to the side with paint splattered on them.
There are dozens of shades, evidence of years of work, of late nights and early mornings. A dark leather couch faces the windows, with a knitted blanket thrown over the back. Bookshelves are stuffed with art books that line the wall near the kitchen. The whole place smells of coffee and fresh flowers.
