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“We won’t go outside. In fact, we won’t leave this hotel. How much trouble can we get into if we don’t even go outside?”
She raises her eyebrows as a glint of a smirk touches her lips. “This is us we are talking about. Somehow we ended up married, broke your ankle, and almost killed me. Anything is possible.”
“True, but this will be worth it. We have one last night before we get back to reality. One night before we learn the truth about each other. Before we leave paradise. Before we start pretending that we’re already over so people aren’t shocked when we finally are. The small risk is worth one last awesome night.” My chest tightens when I talk about us one day being over. We were never something to begin with, I remind myself.
“What do you have in mind?”
“We get dressed up in our finest clothes. Have a romantic dinner. See where things take us. Pretend for one day that we are a real married couple; that we are really on our honeymoon.”
She opens her mouth to talk, but I press further.
“Pretend I’m not in this cast and that you didn’t almost die. Pretend that we love each other because we both know love isn’t actually in the cards for us. We are in the most beautiful place in the world, in one of the most expensive hotel rooms, and we are two of the hottest people in the world.”
She blushes at that. “One night?” Her eyes light up, telling me she knows exactly what this means. We are using our one night, our one redo—tonight. This is it, there won’t be a repeat. If we are going to live together, we need to get this out of our systems. Tonight should be the night. We won’t get a better setting.
“One night,” I answer her.
Her eyes rake up and down my body in heated waves, even though I’m only wearing boxers and a ratty T-shirt. Even though I smell and haven’t showered in two days, I can tell she’d let me fuck her right here right now if I just said the word.
But I want tonight to be perfect. If we only get one night together, I want it to be the best fucking night. A night that we will never forget, unlike last time. And if we are really lucky, it will trigger the memories of that night too.
I flick a piece of her hair back off her shoulder, the only touch I allow myself for now. “Go shower, do your hair and makeup, wear your nicest dress and your sexiest lingerie.” I wink at her when she’s about to protest the lingerie part.
“Go,” I push her in the direction of the shower. Luckily, there are two bathrooms, so we can both get ready at the same time. I hope she gets dressed slowly because I have an unforgettable night planned.
22
Millie
My hand shakes as I try to run my eyeliner over my upper lid, resulting in a wavy line.
Fuck.
I put the eyeliner tube down and pick up some Kleenex to wipe it off, but all I do is smear the black liner everywhere. I toss the Kleenex in the sink. I’m going to have to use remover to get it off.
Instead, I grip the sink, knowing the problem isn’t with my makeup, it’s with me. I’m so nervous.
My hair is curled, and I’m wearing a simple black dress that dips down, showing off plenty of cleavage, while also hugging the curves of my stomach, waist, and hips. I feel sexy as hell in this dress, but only a man who likes plenty of curves will find me attractive. I’m not a stick-thin model. I have breasts, a waist, an ass.
Some men think that’s what they want until they see me naked, and then they change their minds. Or they talk to me after about losing some weight, going on a diet, exercising more.
Sebastian has already seen me naked, though, and his eyes told me he had no complaints. It only strengthened his resolve to fuck me more.
He did mention me exercising more, but it had nothing to do with my weight, rather my stamina—that I can get behind.
I take a deep breath. This is about one night. He’s not going to want to fuck me again after tonight. Those are his rules. He isn’t trying to date me; he isn’t trying to trap me permanently. It’s just about one night of sex. One night where we are anything but ourselves.
One night to remember forever.
I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a wild child. I don’t do makeup or dresses. I don’t usually curl my hair or wear heels. In fact, I had to call down to the gift shop to see if they had any. Luckily for me, they had one nice pair of black strappy heels.
This isn’t me, I say to myself as I look at half of the makeup and curls in my hair.
Tonight it is. It only makes me want to dress up and wear more makeup. I want to impress Sebastian. I want his jaw to drop, his eyes to bulge, his heart to race frantically when he sees me. I want him to not be able to keep his hands off me. I want him to fuck me against the door because he can’t wait until after dinner.
I take the makeup remover wipes and clean my face from the black smudges. Then I start again with a renewed sense of purpose. My hands don’t shake this time. I’m in control. I’m going to look like a freaking goddess that he can’t resist.
There is a gentle knock at the bathroom door twenty minutes later.
