Was she going to say what I think she was going to say?
I love you.
I’ve never said those three little words to anyone I’ve dated before, or an ex. Not because I was being an asshole, but because I just didn’t feel it. I don’t say things I don’t mean, not ever. But right now? Right now a strange feeling washes over me and I feel it hammer inside my chest.
Maybe I do love her.
Maybe I’ve always known.
And just maybe I want her to know.
Later, I tell myself. No point getting all sentimental.
I press my lips to hers. “Let’s get you cleaned up because we need to shower and then get over to the clubhouse for dinner. Bane wants us to meet the rest of the members.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can’t we just stay here?”
“You’re a real stick in the mud sometimes, have I ever told you that before?”
She smiles coyly. “Maybe I just like having you all to myself.”
I peck her on the lips chastely. “I like havin’ you all to me, too, but this clubhouse all live on the property, and we’re expected at dinner.”
She huffs. “I can fake a headache.”
“Or a period?”
“I told you, it’s coming. Lucky for you it hasn’t arrived yet.”
I bump her with my hips. “Lucky for me, or lucky for you?”
“Cute.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure, I bought more chocolate than you’ve ever seen before.”
“Your blood’s worth bottling, Logan Dawson.” She pulls back. “Hey, what’s your middle name?”
“Why is that relevant?” I sigh.
“Tell me.”
I smirk. “You tell me yours first.”
“Elizabeth.”
“Of course,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong with Elizabeth?”
“Nothing. It suits you, my uptown girl.”
She laughs. “Now you.”
I sigh. “Don’t repeat this to anyone, okay?”
She pretends to zip her lips and throw away the key.
I bring my mouth to her ear and say, “Ernest.”
