Page 36 of Playing Mr. Perfect

I grab my belted sweater and concentrate on folding it, startling when a knock sounds at my door. Sure it’s my sisters, I set the belt on top of my sweater in the suitcase and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. I don’t need them asking me why I look frustrated. It was bad enough when we were in the gift shop and they tried to get me to confess that I was into Clay. I played it cool and said what I have every other time they’ve said things to me about him. He’s obviously handsome, and he’s a nice guy, but I don’t go out with athletes. Thinking about it now, I get the same burn in my chest as I did when I said it to them. Kind of like when I make a statement about a scientific fact that I’ve heard a time or two and then second-guess myself on the accuracy of it.

Trying to ignore that discomfort, I make my way to the door and peer out the peephole.

It’s Clay. My heart beats even faster as I take in his tight jaw and serious expression. I don’t blame him for being irritated with me. He looks so handsome in that slate-gray dress shirt, I could barely look at him during dinner for fear of not being able to take my eyes off him. I wasn’t exactly gracious tonight, and he’s been nothing but good to me.

Good isn’t the right word.

He’s been exciting and thoughtful and fun. He made me feel beautiful, wanted, sexy, and alive. He made me feel more than anyone ever has. The truth is, he’s been pretty damn perfect.

That’s when it hits me.

Of course he’s been perfect. There’s a reason they call him Mr. Perfect, and he has enough experience to have mastered the game of flings. I need to keep that in mind and not let my naive heart take over. I open the door and immediately regret not giving myself time to let that resolve sink in and take hold. Without the buffer of the door between us, that magnetic pull is in full force. I don’t like feeling out of control, but at the same time, with Clay I want to chase that high.

“Hey, Reckless. How’s the packing going?”

The nickname that at first had conjured troubling memories from when I was younger no longer does. I’ve become as fond of it as I have of him. He makes it sound special and exciting, but his gaze is still serious, which is a little unnerving. “Okay.”

“I got you a few things today.” He hands me a gift bag.

“You didn’t have to do that.” I look in the bag and see two slim boxes, one with a pink ribbon, one with a red ribbon, and the Eiffel Tower magnet Amber said I should get. “You got me a magnet?”

“Everyone needs a frivolous magnet on their fridge to remember their trips.”

He doesn’t miss a thing. I can practically hear my resolve chipping away.

“The box with the pink ribbon is for your mom.”

“You got my mom a gift?” Oh, my heart.

“No,” he says warmly. “I got you the scarf you picked out for her so you could give it to her. I think it’ll mean a lot to her coming from you.”

Chip, chip, chip.

“That was really thoughtful. Thank you. I’ve actually been regretting that I didn’t buy it for her.” I take the box with the red ribbon out of the bag and open it. My pulse quickens. It’s the green and gold scarf he suggested for me in the gift shop. I think it would look nice wrapped around your wrists. I lift my gaze to his, and holy mother of hotness, even with that tight jaw, he possesses a wickedness that takes my breath away.

“It’ll bring out your eyes.” He cocks a brow, his lips curving up. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Yes. Sorry. We should talk.” I step back, trying to get my brain to work so we can clear the air. “My room isn’t as nice as your suite.”

He steps in front of me, his gaze softening just a tad. “It’s nicer than mine, because you’re in it.”

He leans in, and I close my eyes as his warm lips touch my cheek and his words touch my heart. Closing the door, I follow him in and put the gift bag on the dresser.

His gaze sweeps over the suitcase. “If I hadn’t asked about tomorrow, were you going to leave without telling me?”

“No. I just…” I try to think of something to say other than the embarrassing truth, but I don’t want to lie to him. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how to navigate a fling. I thought that’s what people did. They have fun, then move on.”

He rubs the back of his neck, giving me a look somewhere between amusement and disappointment. “I gotta say, that makes me feel a little cheap. You were just using me for a few orgasms and going to take off like it meant nothing?”

“I wasn’t using you. I mean, no more than you were using me, but—”

“Ouch.” He puts a hand over his heart, feigning pain. “I might be strong, but I’m still human. My ego can be bruised.”

I try to give him a stoic look, but he’s so damn endearing, with those sexy dimples and a playful glint in his eyes, I can’t maintain it, and I laugh. “You’re a fool. What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things.” He strides toward me like a panther stalking prey, and my pulse quickens with every powerful step. “That is, unless you didn’t want one more night to kiss me?” His breath warms my lips, sending heat prickling down my limbs. His hands slide over my hips, resting hot and heavy on my ass as he draws me to him. “Another night to explore each other’s bodies?”

Forget talking. I want exactly what he’s offering. One more night, for closure. “I never said I didn’t want that.”