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“Hmm. Home,” she says, still half asleep.
“I’m going to help you get out of the car, okay?”
She nods, but it’s safe to say that she’s too out of it to even know what’s happening.
I tell the limo driver to wait for me to come back and take her house keys out of her purse. I then gently pick her up, feeling her instant reaction of wrapping her arms around my neck to keep herself tethered to me.
Her doorman opens the building’s door and luckily remembers me picking her up earlier.
“Big night, I see?” He grins. “Do you need any help taking Miss Moore to her apartment?”
“Her key is in my pocket. Mind opening the door for me?”
“Of course, Mr. Wilder. It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you.”
We ride the elevator to the top floor, glad for the doorman’s help, considering I don’t have the foggiest idea of where Lottie lives.
I’ve never been to Lottie’s apartment, so this is a first.
Though I would have preferred being invited instead of sneaking in the dark amongst her things, like a thief at night.
“I’ll stay right here and wait for your return if that’s quite alright with you, Mr. Wilder?” The doorman gives me a poignant look before glancing over to the sleeping beauty in my arms.
Good man.
“Thank you,” I reply, relieved that Lottie has such good people looking after her wellbeing.
I mean, I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of Lottie when she’s so vulnerable like this, but I know there are monsters in this world who wouldn’t think twice.
I walk into her apartment and keep the lights off to avoid waking her up, letting the moonlight coming through her windows be my guide. When I finally find her bedroom, I lay her on top of the bed and remove her shoes before covering her with a blanket.
“Goodnight, Lottie,” I whisper, placing a kiss on her temple.
But just as I’m about to pull away, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses a kiss on my lips. I’m frozen still as her sly tongue swipes over my bottom lip, begging for entrance.
And fuck me if I don’t want to give in.
Even if only for a second.
Her lips are warm and perfectly molded to mine.
My heart thumps madly in my chest, begging me to kiss her like I want to.
Really fucking kiss her until the air becomes a precious commodity for her.
But to my dismay, I force myself to pry my lips off hers, the little cute pout that crests her lips only increasing my frustration.
Lottie snuggles into her bed, hugging a spare pillow to her, making me envious of spending the night with her legs and arms wrapped around it rather than me.
God, help me.
With featherlight feet, I retrace my steps back out of her room, but I can’t resist glancing at her sleeping form one more time before I leave. And when I do and see her lying there, looking so fucking perfect, it finally hits me what this heavy feeling in my chest is—love.
I’m in love with my matchmaker.
Fuck my life.
