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Honestly, we had lasted longer than I’d thought we would. I was surprised we hadn’t caved on the way back to the ferry.
“You can learn a lot in three days,” she said. “About a person, a town, yourself. Do you know Aiden Fisher?”
“I—what?”Did I hear her right?“Yes?”
She laughed, obviously amused by my confusion. “Did you know he opened his gallery to feature other artists? But they have to be local. That’s the requirement.”
My brain was trying to keep up. Finally, it did. A hundred emotions hit me all at once. She’d said she had good news.
“Local? You’re selling your art?”
She smiled, and it was so genuine, filled with a contented happiness that made my heart ache.
“Yes, and I’m already quite in demand. I already sold one to Eli before he left this afternoon and another to Molly for the inn.”
“You’re staying?”
She nodded, her head bobbing up and down with so much excitement that I thought she’d pull a damn muscle.
I wanted to tell her I loved her.
I wanted to tell her I’d devote my life to making her happy.
I wanted to tell her a hundred things and more.
Instead, I just wrapped my hands around her ass and hoisted her up. She made a little squeak, laughing as her arms wrapped around my neck. The stupid duffel fell off my shoulder, and I grabbed it, shifting her to one arm.
“Well, if that isn’t hot, I don’t know what is,” she said, her eyes fixated on the fact that I was now holding her with one hand.
“I’ve carried groceries heavier than you,” I said, giving her backside a squeeze just to hear that squeal once more.
“You say the sweetest things.” She laughed, clutching my shoulders. Her hair was wild and loose, those dark brown curls tumbling down her back.
“I can’t believe you’re staying,” I said, still in shock. I had hoped. I’d dreamed, but I’d never actually thought…
“I can’t believe you thought I’d leave.” Her expression changed, going from playful to serious, as her hands grasped my chin.
“You left your home, your family.”
“I left an apartment, not a home,” she countered. “And, yes, my family is there, but it’s their home. This…” she glanced toward the bright yellow door. “This is mine. This is where I belong. Iamhome, Macon.”
“Well, let’s go home then.”
It was a short distance to the door, and after a few awkward moments of Marin trying to shuffle through her purse while simultaneously being held, we managed to get in.
I dropped the bag to the ground immediately.
The moment the door was shut, I had her shoved against the nearest wall, my hands under her shirt and our tongues moving in tandem.
She let out a little gasp as I cupped her breast through her bra.
Any more of that, and we wouldn’t make it any farther into the house.
“Which room?” I asked. I didn’t want to make assumptions.
Her room was a sanctuary—a private place. I didn’t want to ruin any memories that might linger there.
She looked up at me with those swollen lips and a heated gaze. “Master,” she said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “I’m not making love to you in the guest bedroom like some dirty little secret, Macon. I want to wake up with you in my bed.”
