Ms. Manwhore (Manwhore #2.5)(24)

“Oh no!” Wynn pauses the movie. “Gina, look for My Best Friend’s Wedding.”

Before she can hug me and I start getting truly emotional, I leap to my feet and hide in the bathroom, washing my face for a long time.

Wynn knocks. “You okay? Saint’s at the door.”

I look at my face, and thank goodness my eyes haven’t swelled up. Thanks, three minutes of cold water. I tie my hair in a bun and realize, with a little kick of adrenaline—he wants his kiss ! So I quickly wash my mouth with Scope.

All the things that happen to me physically when I see him are already poised to take over when I swing open the door, bend down to set the door stopper so I’m not shut out, and step outside.

His strong, deliciously unique energy envelops me like a cloak.

“The guys aren’t letting up anytime soon,” he explains to me softly when I just stand there and drink in the sight of him like a junkie.

He’s in lounge pants and a soft V-neck T-shirt, the fabric draping over his hard body and delineating every muscle. Between his lashes, his eyes are resting hungrily on me. As if he misses the sight of me.

“Neither are the girls.” I wipe my cheek again to make sure no tears remain.

He smiles wryly and props a shoulder on the wall, and then he studies me curiously, as if he can see the tears still on my cheeks. “Thought I’d claim my kiss before it felt like a good-morning one,” he says softly.

“It’s already morning anyway.” I grin up at him. “But I’ll give you a day kiss tomorrow in my wedding dress.”

His fingers curve under my chin. “So . . . which are you wearing?”

God, my heart is swooning inside. His bold, handsome face smiles warmly down at me. I can’t wait for him to see me in white. Walking up to him, ready and eager to become his wife.

“Do you want to picture me?” I probe, smiling happily as the look in his eyes tells me that he does. I’m smiling fully now, happiness spreading inside me. “You haven’t seen the one I’ll be wearing.”

His warm fingers curl around my jaw and he turns my head as if he means to kiss me, but instead, he just keeps smiling. “I can’t wait to make you my lady. Your smiles drive me crazy.”

“I missed you.”

His lips curl even higher, tenderly so. “Are you nervous?”

I nod. “But . . . excited.”

His chiseled face is still softened by his smile as he strokes his thumb from one edge of my smile to the other. “I overestimated myself thinking I could wait longer to marry you.”

I nod and stay quiet, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, which suddenly makes me feel like my heart just burst open. “We were watching Father of the Bride and I was bawling like a baby.” I duck my head into his shirt and start bawling again.

“Come here.” He presses me against the flat of his chest, and I fist a handful of shirt and speak into the fabric that smells clean and deliciously like him.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s a funny movie. I was laughing.”

He grabs his phone and shoots off a text. “Come here.” He wraps an arm around my waist and I struggle to stop crying as he leads me to the elevators.

“Where are we . . . ?”

“They’re getting us a room.”

We descend to the lobby, where Otis stands ready at the elevator bank. Saint steps out and holds the doors open as Otis hands him a key. Saint steps back in, presses the button for the tenth floor, and then pulls me back into his arms as we ride upstairs.

We head into the junior suite, and then he leads me out to the terrace, where there are a set of chaises and a table with four chairs, and a view of the water.

He lowers himself onto a chaise and pulls me down with him. He stretches his long legs and I shift above him, then cuddle close as he dries my tears. “I miss my dad right now. Because it’s something a dad does. Protect his family. Not all of them. But some.”

He looks into my face, then he draws his lips thoughtfully. “I remember that movie. I’d make sure our girl made a smart choice before I handed her off to some bastard.”

“Sin!” I laugh when I realize he already sounds annoyed and jealous. “When I go back in there, I’m going to picture you as the dad. And it’ll be perfect. It’ll be funny now.”

He laughs.

His arm clutches me just a little tighter, almost tight enough to make it hard to breathe. And all the emptiness of the old is replaced by the fullness of the new. I lie there against him, enjoying the soft brushing of his fingers against my cheek.

“Would you ever forgive him? Your own father?”

He laughs softly, then his laugh trails off. “No.” He frowns and shakes his head, his eyes a little bit threatening. “I’m not good at forgiveness.”

“You forgave me.”

“I understood why you did it. You were doing your job. I’d do my job before anything else. That was me too. I understood that . . . this”—brows drawn low, he swings a finger between us—“took you by surprise. It took me by surprise how much anything on the media could f*ck me up when Victoria’s reveal leaked.”

I’m glad we can talk about it now. I’m glad it’s starting to get exorcised out of both of us.

“I will never again be on anyone’s team but yours; you know that, don’t you? Unless of course if we argue, because I’ll probably be arguing about a good point and you’ll be too stubborn to admit it. Maybe I’ll be trying to make you see that our little girl’s boyfriend is a good guy.”