In the middle of the night, the moonlight glittering through the master bedroom in bathes everything in a pearly light, including the empty space in the bed next to me.

I squint into that moonlight, looking for the hint of light that must be escaping from underneath the bathroom door. Where else would Juliet be in the middle of the night?

There’s no crack of light at the bottom of the doorway. The light in the bathroom is off, and the room is too silent for her to be anywhere close.

I get up and pad out into the living room. There are three bedrooms in the suite. She could be in one of the others, and my mind starts to race through all the reasons she’d want to leave my side and sleep in one of those instead. There’s no way I’ve started snoring. I never have in all my life, and one day on a Hawaiian island isn’t going to have that effect.

I’m halfway through the living room when I see her, one of my shirts over her shoulders, in a pool of light out on the lanai.

Juliet is utterly absorbed in what looks like studying. She has a thick book open on the table in front of her, a notebook to one side, and a stack of printed pages pulled close to the edge of the table so she can guide the tip of her pen over them. I can’t see her face, but I can picture the expression like she’s looking at me—biting her lip in concentration, brow wrinkled in her focus. I’ve seen her like this more than once over the last two weeks, and it takes my breath away every time.

She’s not the same as she is at the Rose. Her shoulders slope down delicately, and though she sits up straight, there’s a certain vulnerability in the back of her neck—exposed, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun—that makes me want to cross the room, fling open the door, and kiss her there until she melts into my arms.

She’s not going to want to give this up.

That’s the truth that makes my heart ache.

Things between us have gone far beyond games, far beyond arrangements. For someone like Juliet James to admit love is a small miracle, and I know it. From the way she talks about her father, I’m the antithesis of everything she was taught to value. I could make her life an easy one. She would never want for anything. She would never be more than a phone call away from anything she could ever dream of.

But Juliet would wither away in that kind of life, and I’m not sure what else I have to offer. I’ve spent so much of my time chasing women, flipping through them and discarding them like a bad hand of poker, that the hunt is all I have up my sleeve.

Then it dawns on me.

Before I can think twice, I’m moving quickly through the suite and opening the sliding door with too much force. Juliet jumps in her seat, her hand flying to her chest, and whips her head around, eyes as big as the moon.

“Weston, Jesus—”

“I’m sorry.” I drop to one knee beside her chair and take her hands in mine, putting her pen down on the table. I raise one hand to her neck, and her pulse is fast and hard underneath my fingertips.

“I was just—”

I kiss her knuckles. “I don’t care. I mean, I care that I’m interrupting your study session.” A grin flashes to my face, but what I have to say to her is too serious for it to last long. “I’ve been holding out on you, Juliet James.”

“What?” Her forehead wrinkles. “About what?”

I take a deep breath. “When I was twenty-two, I got burned.”

“Burned? Like on a stove?”

“Burned by a woman.”

She nods, blinking. “Okay…”

“It felt like having my heart ripped out and eaten while it was still beating. It was the most excruciating thing that had ever happened to me.”

Juliet’s mouth quirks like she’s going to smile, but she keeps a serious expression on her face. “It’s awful when that happens.”

“After that, I turned love into a game.”

“A game like the one you’re playing with me?”

“A game that became the one I’m playing with you. Only this time it’s not a game. This isn’t a game, Juliet. That’s what I’m trying to explain. I’ve spent all these years finding the next—” There’s no good way to say it. There’s no way to say it that doesn’t make me sound like a total jackass.

“The next notch on your belt?”

“For lack of a better term.”

She lifts her chin an inch. “So, what does that make me, when all this is over?”

“That’s the thing.” I take her face in both of my hands. “That’s the thing, Juliet. I don’t want this to be over. Two weeks with you could never be enough.” She opens her mouth like there’s a protest on the tip of her tongue, so I barrel ahead. “I know there are things you want to do. I know you have certain…expectations for the way you live your life. But I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t say this to you.”

“What’s—” Juliet clears her throat. “What kind of deal are you proposing?”

I laugh out loud, and something unclenches in my chest. A grin spreads slowly across her face. “It’s not a deal. It’s not an arrangement. It’s just—let’s just be together. Being together…that’s it. We can figure all the rest out in the morning.”

She throws her arms around my neck, abandoning her seat at the table, and covers my mouth with hers. Her skin is so warm that it makes the air around us feel cooler, and her heat kicks my need for her into overdrive. 

“Do you have—” Juliet gets the words out between passionate kisses. “—a plan—” I never want this to stop. “—for right now?”

I don’t bother telling her with words.