He stops the car in front of a large three-door garage and turns off the engine. “I’ll get our bags. Pops sent all the serving staff home for the long weekend this year.”
“I’ll help,” I tell him. He may be used to butlers and maids waiting on him hand and feet, but I do everything myself.
He grabs our suitcases before I can step out into the noticeably cooler night air. A light breeze is blowing, wafting in the scent of the ocean. The Atlantic is on the other side of this mansion.
I follow him down the side of the garage until we reach the back of the house.
“Is there a cabana waiting for us that we’ll stay in?” I ask, because normally, his grandfather would assign me and my parents to a guest room inside.”
“I made an executive decision. You’re staying in the pool house with me.”
“Uh,” I start, searching for the right way to put what I’m about to say. “Don’t you think that my staying in your room will play right into what our families are hoping for?”
“Belle, you know I don’t give two fucks about what people think. But relax. There are three bedrooms inside. You won’t be sleeping in my bed...unless you ask real nicely.”
“Tease,” I say, punching his upper arm as he searches his set of keys for the one that opens the front door of the pool house.
He rests a hand at my waist, motioning for me to go inside ahead of him. I step into the dark space and hear him as he flicks on a light switch to the foyer. My mouth drops open. It’s clear to me that someone has done a major renovation on this place. It’s no pool house. Not with marble pillars and gleaming granite floors, and massive crystal chandeliers sending beams of sparkling light through the space.
“This is nice,” I mouth.
“Yes, I had Pops’ decorator design it just the way I wanted.”
“You have good taste.”
He smiles down at me suggestively. “The best.”
My heart does a little flip in my chest, and I sort of wish I hadn’t asked him to kiss me on the way here. It’s bad enough there’s all this chemistry between us. Now that it’s in the open, he’s that much more comfortable pointing it out.
“The guest rooms are to your left and they each have their own attached bathroom, so feel free to choose whichever one you like most,” he informs me. “It’ll only be the two of us in here. And my master bedroom is at the end of the hall.”
“All right.”
“Pops is probably fast asleep. If you’re tired, don’t worry about setting an alarm. He’s up for breakfast super early, but the weekend event staff will pop in to prepare meals and such.”
I nod and follow him down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Sounds good. Yes, I’m pretty beat. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.”
“No?” He puts the bags down and opens the first guest room, flicking on the main set of lights inside. “How come?”
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
“You. Us. Seeing you again...I don’t know. That night in the limo.”
“Right. I’m sorry about that.”
I turn and lean my head into the bedroom. I’m sure it’s perfect, but I’m curious about what the others are like. This one is gorgeous, decorated in Venetian creams and light-colored vintage furniture, with airy, flowy curtains draped around a king-size four-poster bed. “Don’t be sorry,” I tell him without turning around. “Not anymore. We’ve worked it out and got it all out in the open tonight. I’m pretty sure I’ll sleep like a baby now. Especially in a room like this. Do they all have the same decor?”
I feel the warmth of his body at my back, and his arms snake around my waist, his fingers lacing together at the front of my stretchy jeans waistband. “They’re all different,” he whispers at my ear, and I feel the stubble of his jaw graze my neck. “That’s why I left your bag in the hall.”
“Oh, okay.”
He kisses a spot on my neck and I let out a helpless whimper. “I’ll show you the other two rooms and you can decide where you want to be then.”
“Okay.”
“Unless you want to skip all that and just stay with me.”
I laugh nervously. “Probably not the best idea.”
“It’s a big bed. And I’m a big boy, Belle. I can behave.”
“I think I need to sleep alone...I mean, without you tempting me like you are right now.”
“I’m laying it on thick, aren’t I?”
“You really are.”
“All right.” He loosens his grip around my waist, turning to head down the hall. I follow him to the next room, missing his warmth. “This one’s more Avant Garde Parisian style.”
I take in the subtle palette of neutral linens and blends of gold trim finishes, with accents of red in the artwork. The furniture is all Chippendale style antique pieces, with a minimalist queen-side bed with no headboard. “I like this too,” I mutter, and a long yawn escapes my mouth. “Sorry, seeing all these beds must have an effect on me. Can I see the last one?”
He walks to the doorway at the end of the hall, bypassing one room. “Take a look at this one first.”
He slides on a dimmer switch, and I’m floored by the vaulted ceilings, exposed wooden beams painted a dark mahogany, with modern, square chandeliers high above us, a king-sized bed against one wall, with its button back headboard and matching armchairs in one corner, and the floor to ceiling windows looking out at a beautifully lit turquoise infinity pool that seems to stretch into the ocean. It’s dark outside, but the white capped ocean waves are clear in the distance. It’s stunning. I can imagine waking up to the blue ocean waves rolling in.
“This is your room, isn’t it?” I ask. “The master bedroom?”
“Yeah. But I’m
