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“Okay, what do you care about?”
“Getting you back to our suite and picking up where we left off.”
I slide back into my seat and buckle my belt in time for landing. When the plane slows and begins to taxi toward the terminal, I grin at her.
“Unless you had your heart set on going to the after-parties.”
“You know,” she says, her voice light and nonchalant, “I was never one for parties. I prefer to spend my time focused on one person. Especially when the party in question is full of people I don’t know. Small talk is so…boring.”
“Good.” I laugh and shake my head. “I do enjoy you, Maeve O’Callaghan.”
“The feeling’s mutual, Mr. Meyers.”
Chapter 9
~Maeve~
“Thanks,” Hunter says to the bellhop after we’re shown to our suite. He tips him, and we’re left alone to explore this gorgeous room.
Actually, room is too simple a term for what this is. It’s just…massive. It might be bigger than my house.
There are two bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one on each side of a great room, complete with a kitchen and dining room. The balcony looks out over the city, and I can only imagine how gorgeous it’ll be after dark.
But it’s the dress that catches my eye.
“My gown,” I murmur and cross to it. It’s on a dress form in the corner of the room. There’s a table set up with hair and makeup supplies. And on the end of the table, closest to me, is a large white box with a red bow tied neatly on top.
“That’s for you,” Hunter says as he joins me from behind. He rests his hands on my shoulders and kisses my neck. “Go ahead and open it.”
“Hunter, this entire trip is a gift. From the dress to the jet to this room.”
“You’re too easy to please.” He turns me toward him and smiles down at me. “I told you, I’m enjoying myself. Open it.”
I pull the lid off the white box and find another blue box inside.
The kind of blue box that has a white bow and Tiffany written on top.
I glance at Hunter. He’s not looking at the box. He’s looking at me—with the most intense gaze I’ve ever seen.
I wonder if this is how he looks at an opponent in the ring. Because if so, I would just forfeit.
“You’re a little scary, you know that?”
“I can be,” he agrees, and when he sighs, his jaw clenches. “But you will never have a reason to be afraid of me, Maeve.”
Oh, I’m fairly certain he’s wrong about that.
Not because I think he would ever hurt me. Not physically, at least.
But, holy shit, I’m falling in love with this man. And it has nothing at all to do with all of these amazing gifts, and everything to do with the way he looks at me.
How he touches me.
Speaks to me.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
I bite my lip and lift the blue box, unwrap the bow, and remove the lid.
Inside is a black velvet case.
“So many boxes,” I murmur with a nervous grin.
When I slide the lid open and see what’s inside, I push it into Hunter’s hands, shaking my head and stepping back as if it were a snake ready to bite.
“I can’t, Hunter. That’s too much.”
He calmly lifts the chain out of the black velvet, drapes it over his fingers, and holds it up to the light.
“Jules gave me the heads-up that the dress was green. And it’s fucking amazing, Maeve. I can’t wait to see it on you. Ever since I saw your gorgeous green eyes, I knew I wanted you in emeralds.”
He unclasps the chain and walks toward me, but I shake my head again.
“That emerald is the size of my pinky toe,” I say.
“Yeah, I wanted to start small.”
I let out a startled laugh. “Small? Jesus, Hunter, it’s huge.”
He grins, and I see the line running through his head.
That’s what she said.
“I’m serious, that is too much.”
“The thing with a gift,” he says, still calm as can be, “is that it’s not up to the receiver to decide what’s too much. It’s up to the giver.”
I press my lips together as he loops the chain around my neck. Once fastened, the stone falls between my breasts, just above where the dress’s neckline will be.
“God, you take my breath away,” he whispers. “And later, after I strip you out of that stellar gown, I want to make love to you while you wear this and only this.”
My breath comes faster. My mouth is beyond dry. I thought I was monumentally turned on in the plane, but this might top that.
“You’re good with words,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Only because I mean them.”
This kiss is long and slow, but before he can take it any further, the doorbell chimes.
“They’re here to get you ready,” he says and pulls back. But before walking to the door, he lightly touches the emerald on my chest. “You’ll want to take a shower before you get started.”
