Page 87 of Unscripted with Mila

He sighed and sat beside me on the steps, extending his legs in front of himself. “You know, the hotel could kick you out for breaking the rules.”

“You’re doing it as well.”

“I guess we’ll be getting kicked out together,” he said.

I didn’t respond. My throat felt thick and full. Instead, I drew my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

Silence fell for a moment.

“Mila,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

I blinked away the stupid moisture building in my eyes and turned my head, meeting his dark gaze.

“I’m sorry, Shortcake. You’re right. I overreacted, and I was a fucking jerk.”

“I wasn’t telling you to leave because you have bipolar.”

“I know. Again—jerk.”

“I thought it was ‘a fucking jerk.’”

“That too.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I wanted you to have a wonderful night. Then it all went to hell. I was upset and worried—and angry. Not a good combination.” He sighed. “MJ called and insisted it wasn’t her. She said I never told her my plans, and she had no idea where I was going.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know. I want to. I just don’t think I can anymore.” He leaned closer. “But what I want is for you to accept my apology and let me hold you and say I’m sorry properly.”

“How does one do that?” I asked.

“Like this.”

He pulled me onto his lap and crashed his mouth to mine.

I felt his apology. Sensed his worry. Knew he was contrite and anxious. I felt it in the tightness of his embrace and the way he devoured my mouth. When I kissed him back, his shoulders relaxed, his mouth gentled, and his body molded to mine.

He pulled away, burying his face into my neck. “Forgive me, Mila. I was so worried about you. I haven’t worried about anyone since my mom. I was terrified that because of me you might be hurt or scared. I hated that thought, and you’re right. I overreacted.”

I stroked along the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you were so worried. It all went bad so fast.”

“I know. I wanted the date to be perfect for you.”

I pulled back and cupped his face. “You can try again. At home. No one will bother you there. We can go out for supper, go bowling, make out by the water, all sorts of silly things.”

“I like the making-out part.” He smiled and touched my lips. “But I think we should practice here with more making up.”

“Oh.” I felt his erection grow between us.

“I have a lot to make up for,” he whispered against my ear, licking and sucking at the lobe.

“Yes,” I gasped as he drifted his fingers across my thighs. “Yes, you do.”

“Then let me show you how hard I want to make up.”

I swallowed my groan as he touched me. “Yes.”

* * *

NICHOLAS