Beautiful Beast - Page 123

Belle on my arm loving me makes going out a lot easier.

And speaking of my beautiful princess – who, as a bonus, lets me absolutely defile her – I check my phone, ignoring all of the other messages except hers.

Belle: How was the appointment?

Adam: Terrible. He still can’t fix me. Did you hear anything about Buster?

Belle: Not yet. But I booked all of us a weekend away. We need it.

Adam: What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.

Belle: I’ve been saving up for this trip. And you are going. We leave Friday.

Well, now I know what Belle was saving up for, and it’s a sweet gesture. As someone who grew up with the last name Townsend, I’ve rarely had anyone spend money on me.

When I’m with friends, I don’t mind covering the bill because there’s a pretty big income discrepancy between me and most of them.

But when it becomes an expectation with the women I’m dating who just want to treat me like an ATM, it gets lame.

I could take Belle anywhere in the world, and rather than ask me to book something – which many women before her have had no problem doing – she decided to treat me to something.

Adam: Where?

Belle: It’s a surprise.

Adam: I hate surprises.

Belle: You’ll like this one. And I keep telling you, we can’t wait to live our life together. We can’t wait to share experiences and create memories. Nothing needs to be put on hold. You’re a gorgeous, sexy, perfect man, and I love you.

Adam: I love you, too. But I’m still not going.

Belle: Well, I am. So, you can either show up at my place packed and ready to go, or I guess that I’m going alone.

Chapter 29

Belle

TensionradiatesfromAdam’sbody, and I know he wants to be anywhere but out in public, especially on a beach in the middle of the day.

If he could hide out in the penthouse until his surgery, it’s exactly what he would do. But that’s no way to live and we can’t spend our lives waiting.

We don’t even know when the surgery will be or how good the results will look.

All that matters to me is Adam being comfortable moving his face again. But the scar bothers him – a lot. So hopefully, both issues will be resolved.

“Let me give you something else to focus on,” I suggest. “You’re obsessing.”

“I am not. I’m just – Jesus.”

He watches intently while I peel off my jean shorts and tank top to reveal a very racy black bikini that is not at all conservative or my usual style.

But we’re on a beach in the Hamptons, and I’m not likely to run into anyone I know here. Plus, if I’m going to tell Adam not to care what other people think, then I need to practice the same principle.

I’m dressed for him.

No one else matters.

“How does a bookworm have such a banging body?” Adam muses. He pulls me down onto one of the loungers and starts to massage sunscreen into my shoulders.