But I did.
And when the time was right, I’d tell him about her.
“Jesus,” I moaned, annoyed that he wouldn’t drop it. “So you’re the master of love now? Throwing it down everyone’s throats? After going thirty-three years without it?” I went to the door. “You know one wayto get me to stop barging in without knocking? Keep bringing up love, and I’ll avoid your office altogether.”
I sounded like an angry motherfucker, but that wasn’t the feeling inside.
The feeling was the exact opposite.
Jordan smiled, goading me. “You don’t think I know that?”
“Asshole.”
“See you tomorrow for milk and cookies.”
I flipped him off and walked out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emily
Since the restaurant was only half a mile from Gavin’s building, I convinced him to send Denis home for the night and for us to walk back to his place. I wanted some air after such a heavy meal. I wanted to feel the coolness of the night and the protection of his hand.
A hand that, no matter where we were, was always on me. This time, his entire arm was draped over my shoulders, his fingers dangling near the top of my breast. I linked my fingers with his and gazed up at him.
There was a warmth inside my chest. A warmth that hadn’t come from the bottle of wine we’d just shared or the three courses we’d devoured.
It came from him.
A feeling that had been growing since the very beginning.
One that consumed me whenever I was with him, even when I wasn’t.
“What are you thinking about?”
Although I’d been staring, when his eyes locked with mine and the question came out of his mouth, it took me by surprise. “You. This.” I took a breath. “Us.”
“What about?”
I smiled. “I think I like this little life.” A trend I’d seen on social media, something I was sure Gavin hadn’t seen, since his accounts were managed by his assistant and the man despised most of the sites. Still, I didn’t think that took away from what I’d just admitted.
His lips went to the top of my head, pressing against my hair for several seconds before he kissed me. “Me too.”
“I mean, I would like it even more if you’d actually let me pay for something.” Teasing him about this topic was becoming one of my favorite things since he was so relentless about it. And knowing how he’d react made me laugh, the movement causing his lips to bump me. “I think we’re on our tenth dinner—or something like that, maybe even more—and whenever the bill comes, you get all snappy when I offer my credit card.”
He pulled his mouth away. “‘Snappy’?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Here’s more snappiness: I’m never going to let you pay.” He kissed me, harder than he’d pecked my head. “Just like I’m never going to let you book a flight—you’re going to fly private with me or first class commercially. I’m never going to let you stay in a hotel that isn’t a Cole and Spade Hotel.” A brand of hotels I’d never booked and couldn’t afford, and whenever I flew, my seat was always near the back by the restroom. “I’m never going to let you pay for clothes or makeup or any other shit you put on your body. You’re just going to have to take it.” He smiled. “Sorry, Emily.”
“You spoil me.” I soaked in the way he looked at me, the flutters exploding in my stomach. “Why?”
“Because I can.” His teeth flicked across his lower lip. “Because I want to.”
“I’ve never experienced anyone like you.”
Men had bought me dinner, but this was an entirely different level. Of course, none of them were retired NFL players whose net worth was in the billions.
