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Page 71
Forty
Dinner is perfect. Sawyer is back to his usual self—maybe a little tired, but that’s to be expected after a stressful day.
Sawyer teases me throughout the meal, asking about his present, making wild guesses, asking if it’s stashed in my bag or if I’ve dropped it off at the apartment already. I refuse to give him a single clue, laughing while he drums his fingertips on the table and comes up with one wrong idea after another.
“Geez, I hope you like it, after all this guessing. I hope you’ll be into it,” I add with a wink as the waiter approaches with dessert menus.
Sawyer declines the offered dessert menus and asks for the check without taking his eyes off mine.
“I’ll be into it,” he promises with a slow, sexy grin. His eyes roam my face, taking in every detail.
“I don’t get dessert?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Nope.” He’s completely unapologetic as he shakes his head. “You can order whatever you want from the room service menu. Later.”
We’re outside minutes later, waiting for the valet to pull his car up. His arm is around my waist, and I’m leaning into his side when he presses a kiss to the top of my head and whispers, “I love you, Everly.”
It’s not the first time he’s said it. And it’s not the first time I’ve said it back, but it hits me in the gut, as heavenly hearing it now as it was the first time.
The car arrives, sliding up to the curb with a soft purr. Sawyer grabs the passenger door and hands me into the car before slamming the door closed and circling the car to the driver’s side.
“This car,” I say with a shake of my head as we pull away from the curb, merging into traffic headed towards Penn Square. “I thought you were going to be such a dick, driving a Porsche.”
“Yeah? A Porsche didn’t say successful CEO to you?”
“No, it said player having an early mid-life crisis.”
“You’d have preferred an SUV with a good safety rating for car seats?” He glances in my direction. “You’ve made it pretty clear that’s not what you’re looking for right now. Besides, I just turned thirty-five today. I’ve got at least half a decade until the mid-life crisis kicks in, no?”
“Well, I guess it’s good that you’re enjoying the car now, because by the time you’re actually in the mid-life crisis zone, you’ll be in an SUV filled with car seats.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees, pulling into the parking garage at the Ritz-Carlton Residences.
We get upstairs and he’s all over me the moment we walk in the door. He almost manages to distract me into a quick fuck in the foyer before I remember I have a plan and pull away.
“Your present,” I whisper, placing my hands against his chest and giving a little shove to break the contact of his lips on my neck.
“I can wait,” he murmurs, pulling me back.
“No more waiting.” I laugh and give him a real shove this time, then grab his hand and lead him over to the couch. “Sit,” I instruct, pushing on his shoulders till his ass hits the couch. “Give me your phone,” I tell him, palm out.
He shifts on the couch, reaching into his pocket, and a moment later the phone is in my palm. I glance at it, an iPhone exactly like mine, and swipe the screen to life.
“Unlock it,” I demand, handing it back. I have a moment of concern then, wondering if he’s going to balk at giving me his phone unlocked, but he doesn’t even pause. His fingers bump mine as he takes the phone back and keys in the code before placing it again in my outstretched palm, nothing but curiosity written on his face.
Dinner is perfect. Sawyer is back to his usual self—maybe a little tired, but that’s to be expected after a stressful day.
Sawyer teases me throughout the meal, asking about his present, making wild guesses, asking if it’s stashed in my bag or if I’ve dropped it off at the apartment already. I refuse to give him a single clue, laughing while he drums his fingertips on the table and comes up with one wrong idea after another.
“Geez, I hope you like it, after all this guessing. I hope you’ll be into it,” I add with a wink as the waiter approaches with dessert menus.
Sawyer declines the offered dessert menus and asks for the check without taking his eyes off mine.
“I’ll be into it,” he promises with a slow, sexy grin. His eyes roam my face, taking in every detail.
“I don’t get dessert?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Nope.” He’s completely unapologetic as he shakes his head. “You can order whatever you want from the room service menu. Later.”
We’re outside minutes later, waiting for the valet to pull his car up. His arm is around my waist, and I’m leaning into his side when he presses a kiss to the top of my head and whispers, “I love you, Everly.”
It’s not the first time he’s said it. And it’s not the first time I’ve said it back, but it hits me in the gut, as heavenly hearing it now as it was the first time.
The car arrives, sliding up to the curb with a soft purr. Sawyer grabs the passenger door and hands me into the car before slamming the door closed and circling the car to the driver’s side.
“This car,” I say with a shake of my head as we pull away from the curb, merging into traffic headed towards Penn Square. “I thought you were going to be such a dick, driving a Porsche.”
“Yeah? A Porsche didn’t say successful CEO to you?”
“No, it said player having an early mid-life crisis.”
“You’d have preferred an SUV with a good safety rating for car seats?” He glances in my direction. “You’ve made it pretty clear that’s not what you’re looking for right now. Besides, I just turned thirty-five today. I’ve got at least half a decade until the mid-life crisis kicks in, no?”
“Well, I guess it’s good that you’re enjoying the car now, because by the time you’re actually in the mid-life crisis zone, you’ll be in an SUV filled with car seats.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees, pulling into the parking garage at the Ritz-Carlton Residences.
We get upstairs and he’s all over me the moment we walk in the door. He almost manages to distract me into a quick fuck in the foyer before I remember I have a plan and pull away.
“Your present,” I whisper, placing my hands against his chest and giving a little shove to break the contact of his lips on my neck.
“I can wait,” he murmurs, pulling me back.
“No more waiting.” I laugh and give him a real shove this time, then grab his hand and lead him over to the couch. “Sit,” I instruct, pushing on his shoulders till his ass hits the couch. “Give me your phone,” I tell him, palm out.
He shifts on the couch, reaching into his pocket, and a moment later the phone is in my palm. I glance at it, an iPhone exactly like mine, and swipe the screen to life.
“Unlock it,” I demand, handing it back. I have a moment of concern then, wondering if he’s going to balk at giving me his phone unlocked, but he doesn’t even pause. His fingers bump mine as he takes the phone back and keys in the code before placing it again in my outstretched palm, nothing but curiosity written on his face.
