Page 101 of Temporary Vows

“Thanks,” I say, walking in ahead of him.

It’s awkward, coming home together. This is the first time it’s happened.

I sense his gaze on me again. Curiously, I glance over my shoulder and find I’m right. Dorian’s gaze drifts down my back, lingers for a moment too long on my ass, then flitters away. I’m not sure if he noticed I was looking. He probably didn’t.

It means nothing, Elodie. Men look at you all the time.

Except, Dorian is in a class of his own. Knowing him, he was probably double-checking to see that I’d looked the part tonight—something pretty to make him look good.

But hewasstaring at my ass. I wasn’t wrong about that.

God, I need to go to bed. Before my thoughts run wild. Figuring out Dorian Vale is hard work. It would be easier to find a pot of gold at the end of my bed than attempt to decipher the inner workings of his mind.

And what is the point of putting myself through that? Tonight was a taste of what our lives will be like—a show. Always a show, a performance for others to believe whatever my husband-to be wants them to believe.

Dorian moves toward the kitchen as I linger in the hallway. He doesn’t look back and doesn’t say anything, either. For a moment, I wonder if this is him dismissing me for the night. We’ll go our separate ways from here. I will head up the stairs to my room and leave him down here, then I’d see him whenever I see him.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to call after him and say good night, but as I watch him, something stops me.

At first, the resistance baffles me, then I realize exactly what has me rooted to the spot.

The kiss.

That… mindfuck kiss.

I can’t shake it, and I can’t pretend it didn’t feel like… more. At least to me.

Curiosity grips me again, and I wonder what would be the harm in hanging out down here a little longer.

After all, I wanted to get to know him. With his busy-as-hell schedule, this could be the only chance I get before we get married. So, I should take it.

I step forward, my heart thumping in my throat.

Shaky legs carry me toward him. He looks back at me and turns when he sees me approaching.

“Not tired yet, Little Lamb?” he asks with the tilt of his head.

“I… thought I’d grab a snack.”Good excuse.“Is that what you’re doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks up and down, taking me in, then his expression softens. “Something like that.”

“Mind if I join you?”

He considers the question and tips his head. “Not at all.”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he spoke, releasing the angst curdling in the pit of my stomach.

We reach the kitchen, and he opens the door, holding it so I can go through first again.

“What are you feeling like?” The casual question surprises me.

I give him a small smile. “Maybe something sweet.”

“Cool. I have just the thing. That’s what I was after, too.” He heads to the fridge and takes out a small buttercream cake set beneath a glass dome. “Vanessa made this.”

“Wow, I love anything Vanessa makes.” That woman could cook anything and make it taste like it came straight from heaven.

Dorian places it on the counter of the island. “This is one of her finest. She always makes this for me when I get back from my business trips.”