chapter 30

Elizabeth

Huxley wasn’t joking when he said he likes kissing. His mouth barely leaves mine as he gradually walks me backward through the living room and out onto the deck.

When he does finally lift his head, it’s to look out at the view, where he stops for a second and stares. I follow his head and inhale at the sight of the stars popping out on the dark velvet sky. There’s little light pollution here, with Auckland behind us, and the celestial sphere is reflected on the vast expanse of the Pacific, making it look like an endless diamond-scattered carpet. The moon is half-full to the west, and with the stars provides more than enough light to see by.

“Normally I’m not a lights-out kind of guy in the bedroom,” he says, “but I might make an exception tonight.” He looks back at me, cups my face in his hands, and strokes his thumbs across my cheeks. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I’ve watched Huxley turn his charm—his inner light—on so many people over the years, but I’ve never been the f