Page 22 of Wrong For Me

Her eyes go wide. “I do?”

I chuckle against her lips, bringing my hand down to caress the smooth skin of her belly, relishing in the way she trembles under my touch.

“You, really, really do.”

Her eyes flash, her expression amused and mischievous at the same time. “I think you should do something about that.”

“Yeah?” Fuck, I could flirt with this girl for hours. “Like what?”

“Here,” she whispers, lifting her face to kiss me. “I’ll show you.”

Before she can follow through on that tantalizing promise, an unfamiliar ringing fills the room. Definitely not my phone.

Rose goes still under me. “Shit,” she whispers. “What time is it?”

“Not sure.” I don’t want to move from this spot, don’t want to interrupt this perfect moment, but there’s worry and hesitation in her eyes now and we’re not going to do this unless she’s one hundred percent on board.

The phone rings again and she moves to slide away from me. “I should get that.”

I’m disappointed to see her leave my bed, but she doesn’t bother to cover up as she searches for her phone, which is a pretty good consolation. She glances back at me over her shoulder. “You’re not even going to pretend to help me look, are you?”

I cross my arms behind my head. “Oh, I’m looking sweetheart. The view is great.”

She laughs then I groan when she bends over to fish her purse out of the pile of clothes we discarded last night. “Jesus, please come back to bed,” I beg.

But she’s found her phone, a frown marring her face as she looks at the screen. “Will’s called twice,” she mutters. “I should call him back.” Before she can, the phone rings in her hand for a third time, deepening the frown.

To my disappointment, she grabs a blanket from the end of my bed and wraps it around herself before she answers. Then she turns her back, talking softly, and a cold feeling slithers into my stomach.

So she doesn’t want me to listen to her conversation. That shouldn’t bother me.

After a few moments, she again starts rooting around on the floor, this time grabbing her skirt and tank top. The cold feeling intensifies. Damn it. It looks like she’s not coming back to bed.

I find a pair of boxers on the floor and pull them on while she finishes her call. Fully dressed now, she turns back to me, her expression regretful.

“Everything okay?”

She winces. “My absence is becoming noticeable, apparently. Will has been covering for me, but I should probably get back to the villa.”

Thevilla. Not the hotel or the Airbnb. They’re staying at a fucking villa. Because of course they are.

The cold feeling is spreading to my chest now as I’m reminded how very much out of my league this girl is.

“I’ll drive you,” I tell her, reaching for a pair of shorts on the floor.

“It’s fine,” she says quickly. “Will is sending a car over.”

She probably has a personal driver. That’s the kind of thing a rich girl would have, right?

I’m not sure what she reads on my face, but her expression falls and she approaches me, stopping halfway across the room, almost looking nervous. “I’m…I’m sorry to run out. This isn’t the way I wanted this morning to go.”

“I understand.”

I don’t though, not really. She’s a grown adult. Why is it a problem for her to spend the night away from her family?

She comes over to the bed, placing a tentative hand on my bare chest. “I really am sorry. I had a wonderful time last night.”

I can’t pretend to be unaffected, not with her standing so close to me, her warmth surrounding me. Instead I pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her, wondering what would happen if I just flat-out refused to let her go.