“Stay.” His husky voice flows over the sweet spot of my neck, right below my ear. “Stay the night.”
My lips clamp shut. It’s not a matter of should. At the moment, I actually couldn’t care less about what I should or shouldn’t do. Lately, Philippe seems to have that effect on my better judgment. It’s like I’ve been walking around drunk on him for over a week. Eventually, a lot of alcohol usually culminates in bad decisions.
“I can’t. Granny’s expecting me home.”
“Call.”
“It’s late. She doesn’t have a cell.”
“There is an answering machine. I left a message about your sizes for the dress. Leave a message. She’ll get it in the morning before she even has time to worry.”
“You’re my boss,” I groan. “I can’t. It’s not right.”
“I’m not your boss tonight.”
“You’re always my boss.”
“Don’t say things that can and will be used against you.”
My lips twitch. My left eye twitches. My clit twitches. “Just for tonight, you get a free pass on snarky remarks.”
“Stay. Please.”
“You said the magic word. Did it hurt?”
“Like I swallowed bits of broken glasses.”
A couple near us nearly runs us over, but Philippe deftly steers us away, all while not even really looking, because his face is still nestled at the crook of my neck. His hands are burning through me, scalding me straight to the core.
“Stay. Please. We don’t have to do anything. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want.”
“What’s the point of that then?”
His nose nuzzles against my cheek, and my heart nearly leaps from my chest. I’ve had boyfriends before, done the usual things girls do with their boyfriends, but I’ve never had anyone touch me as intimately as this. All without touching any of the usual erotic culprits. No. All it takes is a nose and my earlobe to set me off. I don’t know if it’s pathetic on my part or if it’s actually kind of sexy. Okay, it’s sexy. I know it’s sexy. I just don’t know if I should let myself know it.
Suddenly, Philippe tenses. I can feel the shift in his neck muscles, in his shoulders, in his abs, in his legs. Why shouldn’t I stay the night? All of me is already pressed up against all of him. “Stay. Because the truth is, I’m lonely.”
I want to crank my head up, but I’m scared I’d crunch his nose or hit him in the mouth. Is he drunk? He must be, even though I only saw him drink a couple of sips of wine all night. Philippe Wilson doesn’t get lonely. Philippe Wilson isn’t human. Philippe Wilson is my boss. Philippe Wilson could buy whatever company he wants, and no, I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that any woman would be happy to date him. He might not be overly nice, but he’s beautiful, and he’s rich, and as far as I know, that’s enough for a ton of people.
I know it’s extremely unkind of me to think that. I know it is. I’m just trying to be mean so that I can quell the feelings pumping through me. The problem is, I’m not naturally mean. I hate myself for thinking things like that. And I can’t just shut off my attraction for Philippe. Not just attraction, but I’m starting to find I genuinely actually like him when he’s not being a tyrant d-bag.
“There’s nothing like watching two people who are in love to make you realize you’re terribly, utterly, and entirely alone.”
I realize I need to say something. I try to pull a bit of dry humor out of my ass, but it’s not happening. “So,” I choke. “This is just…this is just about the wedding. It’s not actually about…anything else?” Smooth. Seriously smooth.
“It’s about that too.”
This time, my head does jerk up, and luckily, I don’t hit anything. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Being nice. Being normal.”
“Maybe this is who I really am. Maybe I was actually nice all along, but I just needed a few night’s worth of good sleep.”
I stare at him until my eyes are dry from not blinking for so long. “Sleep?”
“I actually hadn’t slept soundly in…around…I can’t remember. The night you came over, I slept. For twelve hours straight.”
“So, you just want me to stay so you can…uh…rest? On the floor?”
“It is a suite, so there might be a couch.”
“I...” I cling to Philippe to keep me on my feet, which I know is more than a little ironic. I need to finish that. Tell him no, go home, be smart, and keep the squishy feelings in my chest at bay.
The song finally ends, or maybe it was over a long time ago, and we just danced straight through another one. I’m not actually sure. I expect to unwind myself, step back, and sit back down at the table for another half an hour or so before I can make excuses to leave. I’ll call a cab, go home, and lick my wounds because I’m pretty sure not spending the night here at this hotel with this man is the worst kind of rubbing salt in cuts, cuts I didn’t even realize I had.
Philippe clearly has other ideas. He might be done talking, no, he is done talking, but he hasn’t lost the battle or the war. All of a sudden, his head tilts down, and his mouth crushes mine.
CHAPTER 11
Philippe
Apparently, honesty isn’t the best policy. Or maybe it’s my track record doing me in. I decided to open myself up and put it all out there for Sutton to see. I feel like she can see straight down into the depths of me anyway, so why not
