Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancee (Page 58)

“Why do you love me?” I ask, throwing the question back at him.

“Why do I breathe?”

Oh, this man.

He bends over and turns on the water for the bathtub, the pounding sound filling the tiny room. The faucet is as strong as a firehose. The rich really do live different lives. They even have different plumbing.

I slide the ring back on my finger and breathe a sigh of relief.

His arms envelop me and our nude skin touches everywhere it can.

“I’m covered in toilet water,” I protest as he comes in for a kiss.

“Not the first time.” He kisses me even as I cringe. It’s not a very good kiss.

“Dec—who was that on the phone?”

“Grace.”

“Everything okay?”

“It was about your mom.”

I sigh. “What’s she done now?”

“She wants Grace to start ordering McCormick tartan plaid for the dozen kilt tuxedoes. And she’d like to commandeer Air Force One.”

I close my eyes and bite my lip, the rush of the inevitable filling my cotton-headed brain. “This is how she’s starting?” I ask in disbelief. “Ten minutes after I call her?”

“You expected less? She’ll ask Robert Kraft for Gillette Stadium for the rehearsal party next.” He bends slightly, hand in the water. His arm hooks behind my knees and I’m in his arms, then unceremoniously tossed into the half-full tub like it’s Spring Break and we’re poolside in Cancun.

I scream with laughter and shock as the water assaults me. Declan follows it, hungry hands and mouth everywhere.

Bzzzz.

“Don’t answer that!” we shout in unison.

And we don’t.

Hours later, Declan orders room service and I finally get my coffee. Caffeine deprivation leaves me wondering which is worse: the pounding in my head or the pounding in my—

On the tray there is a pot of coffee and a dozen chocolate covered strawberries, half milk chocolate, half dark.

And, oddly enough, a bowl of chocolate-covered pretzels mixed with cheese curls.

Declan walks into the bathroom with the room service cart as I survey it and give him a questioning look. He drops the robe he threw on hastily and stands there, offering me a cup of coffee while my pruney toes turn the hot water back on.

Look at him.

Really look at him.

Is this bathroom aesthetically pleasing?

Oh, yeah.

THE END