We Have Till Dawn

I laughed and peered up at his sly expression. He was trying to play me! He didn’t have puppy-dog eyes, but he was fucking cute. And it was like he’d realized that I didn’t like saying no to him.

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more convincing than that,” I retorted.

Damn it. The challenge lit up his eyes.

I loved that he was being playful with me. I loved it so fucking hard.

He promised he’d come up with something “shortly,” and I “uh-huh”d him along as I looked up the street to see if I could spot any good restaurants.

“You don’t believe me,” he stated, mildly offended. “I can be quite persuasive, you know.”

Don’t I know it.

“I’m aware. I’ve been fucked by you.” I missed it. “Christ. I should be the one paying you.” I shook my head to myself. And while we were on the subject, I wanted to make something clear. “You know you’re not a dollar sign for me, right? I mean—you were. At first. I’m saving most of the money so I can get into business with Anthony, but—”

“I know.” He lifted my hand and kissed the top of it. “You’ve hinted at it before.”

Now was the best time to bring up the donation.

“Someone donated $200,000 to the academy today,” I said.

“Oh?” He schooled his features a little too quickly, and I narrowed my eyes. “That’s interesting. Would you say that’s a considerable donation, or…?”

What the fresh fuck.

“Considerable? It’s a giant donation, and the giant question is—was it you?”

It had to be him. And I had to know why.

“Why would you assume it’s me?” he asked, feigning confusion. Very poorly, I might add. He hadn’t been put on this earth to become an actor. “You know what I think? I think it was someone who went to your brother’s website, read the page with the vision he has for the Initiative—with music camps, tutoring, musical therapy—and the man, perhaps he has a dog, or maybe he doesn’t, simply thought, that’s a good cause. I’d like to support that.”

I…didn’t know what to say. I stopped him right then and there on the sidewalk, and I just stared at him.

He tested a barely there smile, and some uncertainty seeped into his gaze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But it was a big deal. A giant deal.

I took a step closer and pressed my lips to his. I kissed him unhurriedly, wanting to say so much, but nothing came out. Not a damn word. Well, actually…there was one thing I could test the waters with.

“I don’t want you to pay me another cent,” I murmured. “It doesn’t feel right anymore. You’re…essentially paying me to be where I wanna be, right fucking here, with you.”

He swallowed hard and rested his forehead to mine. “You’re not terminating our arrangement, are you? I’m not ready.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just saying this has been real for me for a while, and I don’t want either of us to pretend it’s about the money. We’re more than a transaction. So, from this minute, there’s no more hiding behind a payment plan. You’re with me because you wanna be with me, for however long. Deal?”

A tremor ran through him, and he cupped my face and kissed me passionately. Deeply. He swept his tongue into my mouth, he seduced me, he made out with me like it was our last kiss, he fucking owned me.

“I wasn’t supposed to break any rules with you,” he said raggedly against my lips. The surrender and despair in his low voice shook me. “I appreciate the gesture, and I won’t hide, but the money’s already yours. Tina has it—”

“I’ll talk to her.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t be stubborn. If you don’t want the money, donate it. I have recommendations. There’s this one place in Brooklyn called The Fender Initiative.”

I huffed. “You’re kind of insufferable, baby.”

He rumbled a laugh and buried his face against my neck. “Forty-four years old and called baby…”

I grinned and rolled my eyes. “It’s a term of endearment, dork.”

“I know.” He was still chuckling when he resurfaced, and it was impossible even to pretend to be annoyed. His happiness looked amazing. “Come on, I want something sweet, preferably chocolate.”

“After you’ve eaten dinner,” I reminded him.

“Chocolate for dinner sounds lovely.”

“Gideon.”

“Oh, fine. But no vegetables.”

“And you wonder why I called you baby…”

He laughed.Gideon was picky.

After he’d vetoed six different restaurants on the way to Times Square, I put my foot down and bought us hot dogs from a vendor. The horrified look he gave me was priceless. But hey, I had limits. If he had texture issues or something, fine. I wasn’t gonna make him eat something he really didn’t like, but the excuse “I don’t know…” wasn’t actually an excuse. He just couldn’t make up his mind sometimes.