When I finished tucking Henry in, I came out to the living room where Whit was sitting on the couch—not perched on the edge in that aloof posture I’d seen so often. He was actuallylounging.
He held out his hand and pulled me down beside him when I offered him my fingers. I snuggled against him, closing my eyes, inhaling the scent of him, enjoying just being held.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment. “You seem far away tonight.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Vivian called today.”
“Your mom?” he replied. “I didn’t think she wanted anything to do with you or Henry.”
“She doesn’t,” I said. “She only calls when she wants to remind me what a horrible spawn of the Devil I am and how I’m going to burn in hell.”
“Hmm. Seems extreme.” His arm tightened around me. “I’m pretty sure the Devil isn’t your father.”
I lifted my head from his chest. “Care to tellherthat? I haven’t been able to get through.”
He gave me a grin—cockeyed and boyish in a way that reminded me of Chase. It was the first real family resemblance I’d ever seen. “Happy to set her straight.”
“Thanks.” I sat up and kissed him.
It was meant to be a brief embrace, but then he was pulling me onto his lap so that I was straddling him, kissing me—passionately, urgently. I gasped when he released my lips to press kisses along my neck, my shoulder, the hollow of my throat. Then his mouth found mine again. His hands smoothed over my back, pressing me closer. My skin was flush, burning for his touch. When his fingertips brushed along the inside of my thigh, I shuddered and rose up on my knees. His hand slipped under the hem of my shorts, his questing fingers making me bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
I nodded and let my head fall back. “God, yes…”
And then I was lost on a wave of pleasure, all the world slipping away until there was only that moment, only ecstasy.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I said as we stood in the doorway of my apartment, meaning it with every beat of my heart. My whole body hummed, every sense heightened almost to the point of pain. Being near Whit woke something in me, something I hadn’t fully realized was sleeping.
He smiled and lifted each of my hands, brushing a kiss to them in turn. “Me, too. But I get it. I don’t want to confuse Henry either.” He gave a quick tug on my hands, knocking me off balance and straight into his arms.
I laughed softly and tilted my face up for a kiss, and he was happy to oblige.
When the kiss ended, he studied me for a long moment before saying, “Let me take you to dinner. Just you and me. We’ll make a whole night of it.”
I was slightly taken aback. A whole night? “Um…okay. I could ask June if she’ll keep Henry for the evening.”
“How about this Thursday?” he suggested. “I’ll pick you up at three, we’ll go to the Chateau early, avoid the crowds, and then take the night wherever it goes.”
I blinked at him in disbelief. “The Chateau? You mean in Charleston?”
“Well, not the one in France. We’ll save that for a weekend trip,” he promised with a wink. “Will you settle for the one in Charleston?”
I’d heard about the Chateau, a French restaurant, winner of loads of foodie awards, the kind of place where a glass of water probably cost more than what I made in a day.
“Whit, I’m flattered. I’m sure it would be incredible. But…” I pulled back from him, reluctant to share my thoughts, but why bother avoiding the truth? “I’ve never been anywhere like that. It’s not exactly the kind of place I could ever afford.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Remember our conversation about letting me spoil you? But if it’s too much, that’s okay. We can go anywhere you want.”
What could I say to that? That my version of spoiling myself was dinner at a chain restaurant with all you could eat salad and breadsticks and bottomless pasta bowls that would feed me for a few days if I took home leftovers? He’d go if I asked. I knew he would. But some part of me was insisting I’d be a fool to turn down something I might never have a chance to try again. Even once I was back on my feet and no longer living in Dawes House, a place like the Chateau would still be out of reach.
“I don’t have anything to wear to a place like that, Whit,” I said, making the last argument I could think of, even as the reality of the excuse made me a little panicky.
“We’ll go shopping,” he said casually, like it was nothing.
I shook my head. “Whit, that’s too much. I already feel like the dinner is more than you should spend. I’m not going to let you buy me clothes like I’m a charity case you’re dressing up like some modern-day Eliza Doolittle.”
He chuckled. “Put in my place by literary allusions.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “If I can figure out another solution that you’re comfortable with, will you go?”
