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A corner of his mouth twists wryly. “That, or I don’t have that much leverage over the folks at Cosmo.”
The limo stops, and he opens the door for me.
As we get into his building, he tells me about a guinea pig herd he discovered upstate—a place where owners can let their pets play with large numbers of other piggies.
“Monkey and Oracle looked like they enjoyed being together,” he explains as we ride the elevator. “So I started to wonder whether they wouldn’t want even more socialization.”
“Sure,” I say as the elevator opens into his place. “I like the idea of this herd. We’ll take them there one day.”
The part I like the most is that he’s making plans that involve me.
First, I’m his girlfriend, and now this.
The only way I’d feel happier is if he got naked.
Hmm. Maybe this can also be arranged?
“So…” I take off my boots. “You never gave me a tour of your place.”
He hands me a pair of slippers that happen to be exactly my size—making me feel like Cinderella.
“I’m going to fix that oversight immediately.” He opens the door down the hall. “This is my bedroom.”
Check and mate. Bedroom is the destination I needed for my evil plan.
Once we’re inside, I close the door loudly to get his attention. Then, as he watches, I unzip my top.
Dracula displays immediate interest—as does Vlad.
His eyes gleam predatorially behind his lenses as he closes the distance between us. “That outfit has been driving me insane.”
I reach over to unbutton his shirt collar. “Right back at ya.”
“Wait.” He catches my wrists. “There’s something you should know.”
“Oh?” A kaleidoscope of butterflies flaps their wings together, starting a whirlwind in my belly.
He takes a breath, his expression uncertain for the first time since I’ve known him. Softly, he says, “It’s going to sound crazy, but I’ve never experienced this kind of connection with anyone before. The way we are together is like the most elegant, bug-free code that works perfectly as soon as you finish writing it. Fannychka…” His voice roughens. “I know it’s only been a few days since we met, but—”
“You love me,” I blurt—and flush immediately.
I have no idea where this bold statement came from, but I’m absurdly certain I’m right.
He lets go of my wrists, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Is it some American custom to interrupt such things?”
My already-prodigious blush deepens. “I’m so sorry. You were saying?”
He takes my face into his hands, the way he did the other day when he told me he’d like me even without any facial hair. His eyes are the purest, deepest blue as they peer into mine. “Fanny Pack,” he says solemnly. “I love you.”
The storm in my belly morphs into a full-fledged tornado, one that spins higher up my chest, encasing my heart with the warmest, sweetest glow. “And I love you,” I breathe.
He leans in, claiming my lips in the deepest, most passionate kiss. Lips locked and tongues dancing, we stumble to the bed, our clothes falling off as if by magic, and what happens next can only be described by one word.
Lovemaking.
Hours later, as we lie there utterly spent, I secretly pinch myself to make sure this is really happening.
It is.
