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Ken is like a kid in a candy store from the second we park in the garage and he lays eyes on the other cars.
“Wow,” he mutters as he paces back and forth between them, peering through the windows and taking in the details. I stand close by, watching, appreciative of his excitement.
If he’s still just faking his interest, he’s a damn good actor. I’m starting to think he might like pink after all.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I giggle as he pulls out his phone to take a selfie with the row of vibrant vehicles. When he pulls me into the picture with him, my stomach flutters and my cheeks heat at the closeness, but I curl up against him and put on my best million-dollar smile.
“My mom is going to love these,” he says as he punches a few buttons and sends the pictures.
I’m barely paying attention, though, because my stomach is turning nervously.
“Your… your mom?” I almost can’t get the words out.
Don’t guys normally wait to show their mom who they’re dating?
We’re not dating.
Right. Guys don’t show their moms who they’re planning to hook up with.
Do they?
My nerves have turned me into a mess, an over-thinking, anxious mess, and something tells me it’ll only get worse when I get Ken up to the penthouse.
Has it really been so long since I’ve been alone with a man that I’ve forgotten how this goes?
I grumble. It obviously has.
“Yeah, she’ll love them,” he assures me with a smile.
I awkwardly gesture toward the elevator that will take us to the top floor, and Ken falls in step beside me. I’m painfully aware of the shrinking distance between us, wondering if I’m imagining things or if he’s getting closer on purpose, and when his arm brushes against mine, chills zip up my spine.
I don’t know what kind of electric current is pulsing through his skin, but it shocks me every time we touch. It jolts me in a way I’ve never experienced before, lighting up my insides like a Christmas tree and leaving a permanent smile on my face, and I can’t deny I want more.
I need it.
I punch my thumb into the elevator button, and we stand in tense silence, waiting for it to arrive. There’s so much racing through my mind, so many things I want to say, that I wind up saying nothing, which is a shame.
After all, our time together is limited. Two days together at most, and the seconds are ticking away.
I should make a move.
No,heshould make a move.
The elevator dings as the doors slide open, silencing my conflicting inner thoughts. Thankfully, the elevator is empty, which is normal for this hour, considering the older businessmen who live below me, and Ken gestures for me to step inside first.
I oblige, punching the button for the fourteenth floor, and he joins me. We’re still quiet, a tense energy bubbling between us that I can’t quite put my finger on, but as the elevator doors slide closed, it’s suddenly stuffy and hot.
I exhale deeply, wondering if there’s an issue with the building’s AC, and when I inhale again, something sweet hits my nose.
My eyes widen as I stare at the reflective silver of the elevator door, and I nervously take another breath. The smell of vanilla buttercream assaults my senses, stronger this time than before as it swells in the air around me.
I’ve barely registered it when Ken breaks the silence.
“Bailey,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
I turn to look at him with a gasp, unable to do anything but stand there, and I see the curious glint in his eye. He clearly smells it too, and something about it has piqued his alpha’s interest, appealing to his primal instincts.
