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I’m happy because of him.
His name leaves my lips on a single, soft breath. Our faces are inches apart, and he moves his thumb to trace the outline of my cupid’s bow.
“Yes, my love?” The warmth in my abdomen spreads out to my toes and fingertips.
“I…” I suck in a shaky breath. “I think I love you too.”
I can’t be sure if it’s the liquor talking, but every problem I’ve had with Alexander, every problem I havenow, it seems fixable. Our chemistry is undeniable. The sex is mind-blowing.
Surely, that’s a good enough starting point? It’s more than so many people have, it’s more than I ever thought I deserved. If Alex loves me the way he says he does—he won’t keep me locked up for the rest of my life.
I choose him.
Alex kisses me until my lips go numb. I root my fingers in his hair. All I can think of, all I can taste is him. My hands slip under the hem of his shirt, tracing the outline of his abs.
A car pulls up beside us on the curb, intruding on our moment.
The cab—surprisingly—takes us back to the hotel. But instead of heading back to our room, Alex makes a beeline for the fine jewelry store in the small pavilion adjoining the lobby. It’s like three in the morning, so I’m shocked that any of these places are still open.
“I’m going to buy you the most expensive ring they have,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. Then he looks back at me and says, “Well, the most expensive one you like.”
A small chuckle escapes me. “Are you going to get one for yourself, too?”
“Guys don’t wear engagement rings,” he says, quirking an eyebrow.
“What if I wantmyguy to wear one?” I quip. “It’s pretty fucking sexist that only girls wear them. How will people know you’re taken?”
Alex grins. “There will be no mistaking that I’m taken, Alize,” he says. “Anyone that knows me will find out quickly who you are and what you mean to me.”
I hope he doesn’t notice my blush. “I still want to pick a ring for you.”
“You know I’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart.”
Anything I want.
I really need him to mean that.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ALIZE
I wake with a pounding headache.
Nearly every part of my body hurts—my eyes, my joints, my soles. Even my skin feels aflame. At first, panic gathers in my chest because I’m worried that I’ve suddenly gotten more ill, and this means I’ll need to end up in the hospital.
Then snippets of last night’s activities come back to me and it hits me like a bullet.
I’m hungover.
Cracking my eyes open, I try to get a handle on my bearings. I'm in a cavernous room, on one of the biggest beds I’ve ever seen. Sunlights streams into the room from a huge floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city.
A spark of recognition. I’m in a hotel room.
There’s a groan beside me. With a painful twist I find Alex beside me, one arm behind his head, the other twisted around my torso. He’s deep in sleep.
Exactly what I expect considering the night we had.
There was so much alcohol, so much partying, that it’s a miracle we made it back here in one piece. I swipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
