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I stalled.

Warred.

I kept my attention downturned when I mumbled, “Probably should get you home.”

Light footsteps padded up behind me. A swelling of energy.

Of goodness and light.

Apple and cinnamon battered my senses, and a soft hand smoothed up my back.

“Just one. Please. I want to celebrate this with you. Just you and me.”

I needed to tell her no.

Put an end to this.

Gain some fucking sense.

But when it came to Elena Mercer, I had none of that.

So, like a fool, I muttered, “Just one.”

FORTY-TWO

ELENA

I crept deeper into the cramped space.

Energy shivered through the room, twining with the faint strains of music that trickled in from out front. It was so intense I could almost see it glittering in the muted light that burned from under the cabinet over the counter.

Exactly where Trevan stood facing away, looking so damned good, my belly swooped.

I knew he’d been getting ready to pour the rest of the champagne down the drain.

I’d panicked at the thought of him doing it.

At the thought of this night ending.

At the thought of waking up from this dream.

I still couldn’t believe I was officially a business owner.

I was doing the thing, and I was so proud of myself.

Did it make me greedy that I wanted more?

That I wanted this time with Trevan?

That I was desperate for him to take me back to that place where he’d had me yesterday?

I was honestly kind of surprised that he conceded considering he’d been trying to avoid being alone with me the whole day, but you sure as hell weren’t going to find me complaining.

He wrapped a big hand around the neck of the champagne bottle and grabbed one of the small plastic cups and filled it halfway.

Espresso eyes were hot as he passed it to me. “Here you go.”

His voice was a rough scrape of fear and adoration.