Wendy
The car ride home from L'Étoile*the night before had been a masterclass in torture.
My lips had been bruised and swollen from the way he had kissed me against the glass of the restaurant.
I had fully expected and entirely wanted to drag him up the stairs by his tie the second we crossed the threshold of the mansion.
But Reed Wyatt, the ruthless, cutthroat CEO, had suddenly decided to become a perfect, honorable gentleman.
When we stood alone in the quiet foyer, he had wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed a devastatingly soft kiss to my forehead and whispered. “Goodnight, Wendy."
He had said he wouldn't rush and he was keeping it.
Then, he had walked up the stairs, leaving me standing in the foyer, internally screaming: Rush it! Please, for the love of everything, rush it!
