“Yeah, I know.”
“So please do not change my meaning.”
I smile at her. “You look at me like that, Anjalee…” I shake my head, sigh. “A look like that, from a woman like you? It ain’t for me, babe. All I did was take you to a movie.”
“It is far more than that, Kane. And again I say, youknowit, and you know itverywell.”
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Tucked up against me, hands between us, chin on my chest, comfortable in my arms, easy to hold, eyes on me like I’m all she’s ever wanted. Heart hurts, aches, stutters. So long dead, so dried up, so atrophied…it wants to beat again. Wants to soak up what she’s giving me.
I just don’t deserve it.
She sees things on my face, because she’s dug under some of my guards, and I’m letting her see shit I don’t normally let show on my face. Or maybe she just sees it.
“You can’t look at me like that, Anjalee,” I whisper. “You fuckin’can’t.”
“I shall look at you however I want.” She pulls back, taking both of my hands. “I have decided.”
“On what?”
“I would like to see the mountains.”
“The mountains?”
“Yes.” She nods, decisively. “With snow on them.”
“You know which mountains?”
She shakes her head, then stops, thinks, and her eyes light up. “Yes! The rocky ones.”
I laugh. “That’sdayson the bike, babe. You up for that? Your ass up for that?”
She just smiles, bright and bold and eager. “I am up for it, and so is my backside. And as you told me, I have all the time in the world.”
I’d do anything, absolutely fucking anything to keep that smile on her face, that light in her eyes.
“Rocky Mountains here we come, then.”
She bounces up and down, eagerly. “Oh, I amsoexcited! Can we sleep outside again?”
I laugh, her eagerness contagious. “Billionaire princess wants to sleep on the ground under the stars?”
She nods, eyes wide. “Oh yes. Very much. I have always been the billionaire’s princess. Now, I am an adventurer! A vagabond. It is very exciting for me.”
“God, you’re fuckin’ cute.” My atrophied heart is trying like hell to start back up.
“Is cute as good as sexy?”
I laugh so hard my ribs hurt. “Babe.”
She pokes my chest. “Again with thebabe.” She affects a rough, gruff tone, and I bust out laughing again. “You must translate.”Trans-LATE.The accent, man, fuckingkillingme. “I ask you, is to be cute as good as to be sexy?”
“They’re different. Cute is…not like kittens or puppies. A different kinda cute.” I huff, trying to figure out how to put it. “They’re just…different. You’re cuteandsexy.”
Her eyes go wide. “You think I am sexy?”
I have no control whatsoever—my hands wrap around her waist, low, just above her hips, and pull her to me. She gasps, because it’s not a gentle thing, that pull. She bumps against me, staring up at me, eyes wide. “You got no fuckin’ clue how sexy you are, Anjalee Sharma. Not one goddamn clue.”
She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she melts against me, eyes black pools, heated, liquid, drowning me. “Is that a yes? You curse so much, it is hard to tell what you mean, sometimes.”
