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“You can take your time,” she continues, “until you’re ready to make love to me. There’s no rush. Equally I don’t expect multiple orgasms, so don’t feel you have to give them. One is absolutely amazing! I have to tell you, though, I’m not interested in having sex in public places. And I’ll never pressure you to have sex. But whenever we do have it, I can tell you, Damon Chevalier, it’s going to be fucking amazing, because you’re gorgeous, and hot, and I’m just crazy about you.”
She stops talking at the sight of the waiter approaching, and we both lean back as he removes our plates and gives us the dessert menu. When he retreats, she studies her menu for a moment, then slowly, without moving her head, lifts her gaze to mine.
She chuckles. “It’s your turn to have eyes like saucers.”
“Can you blame me?”
She smiles and holds out her hand again, and I slide mine into hers.
“I want to paint you now more than ever,” I tell her.
“I’d like to see it.” She brushes the back of my hand with her thumb. “Juliette told me that you said your studio is the only place God exists for you now.”
“Yeah.”
“You lost your faith?”
“Yeah. Mum used to take us to church, but after the accident, Saxon, Kip, and I stopped believing.”
“But in the studio, you let yourself believe in Him?”
I hesitate. “I suppose it’s the one place I let myself hope.”
She continues to stroke my hand. “Maybe it’s not that you don’t believe, but that you’re furious at Him for allowing suffering?”
I look into her eyes, shocked by her insightful words. “Are you religious?”
“No. I don’t believe in Santa either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think Christmas is wonderful, and that there’s a magic to that time of year, because we give gifts, eat together, and give to charity. For me, God exists in the form of doing good deeds—showing warmth and compassion and love to our fellow humans. In that sense, you are a very godly man, Damon Chevalier, and I have nothing but admiration for you.”
Oh jeez, this girl.
Emotion washes over me, and for a few moments my throat tightens, and I can’t speak. She continues to stroke my hand, though, her gaze gentle, a small smile curving her lips.
“I don’t want dessert,” she says when I’m eventually able to finish off my wine with a big gulp. “Let’s go up to our room. I want to kiss you so badly.”
“Okay.” I don’t need to be told twice.
We pay, leave the restaurant, and go up in the elevators. Another couple travels with us, so we stand quietly, holding hands, until they get out. Then, while we rise the last few floors, I turn to her and look into her eyes while I brush my thumb across her bottom lip.
“I’m crazy about you, too,” I tell her honestly.
She responds with a beautiful smile that lights her up like a beacon.
“I have a present for you,” I murmur.
“Ooh.” She chuckles. “A ‘special’ present?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me guess. Does it buzz?”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
Her eyes flare. “You’re so naughty.”
“You have no idea.”
The doors ping and open, and I take her hand and lead her down to our room.
