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I have a feeling things are about to get less easy.
His thumb drags over my cheek. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
That makes heat swirl through me. I’ve honestly never had anyone try this hard to get close to me. No one’s ever cared this much. I swallow.
“I need you, Abigail.” His expression is still full of what almost looks like respect and, if I’m not mistaken, wonder.
His words make my heart flip. “You…do?” Need is different from want. It seems deeper. More primal.
“Cara needs you,” he says with a nod. “You are completely right when you say that your farms can change so many things for us. But I need so much more from you.”
I stare at him for a few beats, his words sinking in slowly.
He takes a tiny step forward, fully moving into my personal space. He’s looking at me with an unreadable expression, his thumb still moving over my face.
I wet my lips. God, his hand feels so good. It’s big, hot, a little rough…real.
Just like that my mouth is dry, my heart is pounding, my palms are tingling, my thighs clench. And I look past him to the door.
His fingers grasp my chin and move my face until I’m looking up at him. “Oh, no. You’re not walking out that door. You’re not walking away from me. Not again.”
My breath catches in my chest. A shiver goes through me. But it’s not a bad shiver. That’s a shiver of desire.
This man wants me.
And I’m intelligent enough to know that all of the things I’m feeling—the adrenaline pumping, the mind whirling, the electrical pulses along my nerve endings—are from wanting him too.
They just feel like all of the fight or flight reactions I’ve had to bad, uncomfortable situations over the years and my primal brain is telling me to run.
“You’ll make me stay here?” I ask. My voice is breathless.
“I’ll make you want to stay here,” he promises.
God, that confidence.
I press my lips together. I know he won’t force me. If I pull back and tell him I want to leave, he’ll let me. I know he won’t give up. But he’ll give me space. He said so in the SUV.
But I don’t want space.
I really don’t.
“I need to brush my teeth first,” I say.
He blinks. Then his brow wrinkles. Then he smiles. “I’ll get your bag.”
He pivots and strides toward my suitcase. He carries it into the bedroom and tosses it on the bed. Then he steps out into the living room area. “Hurry up,” he says.
I grin, all of my nerves melting away. “I will.”
I grab my toiletry bag out of my suitcase and duck into the en suite bathroom.
It’s enormous. And gorgeous. It’s all marble and gold accents and there’s a deep tub that would be perfect for soaking with a good book.
But there’s a hot prince outside the door—who I’m engaged to—and I am startled to realize that I’d rather be with him than in that tub with a book. Wow. Now that is something.
Don’t worry, Abigail, we’ll fit.
I shiver as I remember his text after I told him we wouldn’t both fit in my bathtub in Sapphire Falls. I would definitely be willing to try this tub out with him though.
