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“Okay.”
He stands, pulling me to my feet. We’re silent as he leads me past the massive kitchen, down a hallway, and into his room. I know it’s his because his scent assaults my nose right away. Somehow, I manage to resist inhaling. The temptation is there. Big time.
The décor in here is like the living room. Dark. Masculine. Sexy. We pass his massive bed and enter a spacious walk-in closet. One side has suits and dress wear. The other side is empty, as if he’s waiting for someone to fill it. Or maybe he had someone, and she’s gone. He pads to the built-in dresser at the back of the closet and opens a drawer, pulling out light grey shorts. A small groan escapes my mouth. Of course, they’re grey. From the next drawer, he pulls out a white t-shirt, and tosses it to me.
“Bathroom is through the other door. I’ll change in my room to give you some privacy.”
I nod, brushing past him to go to the bathroom. It’s freaking beautiful. While tiles with golden grout line the floor and walls. The accessories are golden, too. There’s a double vanity with his and hers sinks. My favorite thing is the massive walk-in shower that looks like it could hold ten people. I’m assuming the toilet is behind the other closed door. Rich people. The thought has me smiling. I once saw a TikTok that said if you could touch the sink, shower, and door all while sitting on the toilet, then you were poor. I laughed at the time because it was so accurate. No touching anything here unless it's your intended goal.
There’s a tap on the door. “You doing okay in there, Dove?”
“Just debating jumping in the shower and trying out the rain showerhead.”
He laughs. “If you do, let me know. The water knobs can be a bit tricky.”
An image of him seeing me naked crosses my mind, and my body heats in response.
“I’m just kidding. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I take off my hoodie, shirt, and jeans. I glimpse myself in the mirror and flinch. The bruising is black and purple now, making it look twenty times worse. I look disgusting. There’s no way Henri would want me. Not when I look like this. Grabbing his shirt, I pull it over my head. He wasn’t lying when he said it would look like a dress on me. It’s comfortable and doesn’t hurt my skin the way my clothes did. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I exit the bathroom.
Henri is leaning against his bedpost, phone in hand. He looks angry, but the look fades when he sees me, but I barely notice because he looks so good. He’s wearing the grey shorts and nothing else. His muscular chest is on display, and I’m surprised at the dark dusting of hair. Normally, I’d say that I like a guy with a smooth chest, but he looks so handsome that I might just have to reconsider.
He looks up, pausing. “Damn.”
“What?”
“It’s going to be hard to keep my hands to myself.”
His words make my cheeks feel warm, but I like it.
“Do you like pizza?”
“We live in Chicago. Of course I like pizza.”
“Deep dish?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Thank god. That was going to be a deal breaker for me.”
I laugh, following him to the living room.
“What if I had said I liked New York style?”
He makes a pained sound. “Then you would have gone from a solid ten to a six.”
“A six! Dang, you’re a hard man to please Henri.
He grins. “You have no idea.”
Why, oh why, is that so freaking sexy?
“Let’s order the food. I grabbed some blankets while you were changing so we can veg out.”
Sure enough, there are some fuzzy blankets on the couch. He sits in his spot, patting the seat next to him. When I sit, he covers both of us with a blanket. Since I’m wearing his shirt now, I can feel the heat coming off his body in waves. I snuggle closer to him.
“You good with pepperoni?”
