“I don’t want you to fit into my world, June. I want you tobemy world.”
She chokes on a sob and shakes her head a half dozen times. “I hate you so much,” she stutters with a shaky breath. Then she turns and waits for her bodyguard to open the door.
I pivot and walk away with no regret. Not knowing would have been worse than knowing. At least I can move on with the closure from having said everything I could, even if the words aren’t enough. Even if I’m not enough.
I hear the vehicle pull away behind me, and I take a deep breath. This hurts. She’s it. I tried the falling-in-love thing, and I’m done. Never again.
“My dad expects you to keep a close eye on me.”
I stop.
“How are you supposed to do that with your back to me?”
I turn as she waltzes toward me with a big bag over her shoulder, feet clicking in flip-flops. “Thought you were leaving,” I say.
“I had to get my bag and tell my mom that you weren’t done breaking my heart, so you must be the one.”
“Thought you hated me.”
She stops right in front of me. “I hate you so muchbecauseI love you despite all common sense.”
I take her bag from her, and then I take the last step between us.
“Are you done breaking my heart?” She grabs my shirt with both fists.
I lower my head, brushing my lips over hers. “Probably not,” I whisper.
Not even close.
She closes her eyes and whispers, “Promise to always put it back together?”
I slide my hand to cup the back of her head, fingers in her hair. “Promise.”
When we kiss, I vow never to kiss another. If she leaves me, I will not kiss another woman. This is it. June is my all or nothing.
“I love you,” I say between kisses. “My first, now, and always.”
“Baby,” she grins, kissing a line from my jaw to my neck, tightening her grip on my shirt, “don’t ever say you’re not good with words. You’re the most poetic accidental romantic.”
I chuckle because I don’t know what an accidental romantic is, but as long as she calls me her “baby” and kisses my neck, she can call me anything.
“Are your parents coming back for us or at least you?”
“Nope.” She hugs my arm and nudges me forward. “We’re walking to the nearest hotel. You have some proper apologizing to do. And I thought it best to do it with a little privacy, since you’re such a screamer.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
June
There’sa hotel across the street from Segerstrom Concert Hall, so that’s where we go.
“I have a credit card now,” Flynn says as we enter the lobby with me hanging from him, lips on his neck, hands snaking up the back of his shirt.
“Great,” I mumble. “Give it to them before we take off our clothes.”
He chuckles, trying to dig out his wallet from his pocket. “We need a room,” he says to the gentleman at the front desk.
“Do you have a reservation?”
