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can come along while we shop, if you want. I feel bad about dragging you all the way to Cali just to leave you alone to watch TV,” I say to Loïc.
    “No, thanks, babe. I’m good here.”
    “What? You don’t want to go shopping?” I ask sarcastically.
    “Don’t forget that I know what it’s like to go shopping with you. I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like to go with three Wright women.” He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.
    I can’t help but laugh because I’m sure it would be a nightmare for any man. “I don’t blame you.” Closing the distance between us, I pull his mouth into a kiss. “I love you,” I say, our mouths a breath apart. “Thank you for coming out here with me. I’m sure the whole meet-the-family thing isn’t easy for you, but it makes me happy. So, thank you.”
    “Nothing about dating you is easy for me, London. It’s all out of my comfort zone, but I’d face more than a few internal demons to be with you.” His hand rises, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, before the tips of his fingers slide down the skin of my cheek, causing a torrent of goose bumps to pebble my arms.
    My lips find his again as an innate desire to be joined with him takes over. Warmth invades my body as his tongue moves in time with mine, creating an intimate dance made solely for the two of us. Without breaking our connection, I leave my chair and push Loïc back into his, pressing the palms of my hands against his firm chest. I place one of my legs on either side of his thighs and straddle him.
    His fingers grasp at my back, kneading my skin, as he takes the kiss deeper. An involuntary groan leaves my mouth, followed by one from Loïc. His desire surges for me, hard beneath his pants, as I grind against him. He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling me even closer to the point where I don’t know where I end and he begins. We’re a heated mess of tongues, lips, and skin, frantically kissing to the melody of our moans of desire. It’s the sweetest song I know. Nothing is more enrapturing than the heady hum of Loïc and me on the verge of a frenzy.
    A throat clears, and I pull my mouth from Loïc’s as his body stiffens beneath mine.
    Georgia stands behind Loïc, wearing the most amused smile. “Hey,” she half-whispers, “sorry to break up this hotness”—she moves her hand in a circular motion toward Loïc and me—“but Mom’s ready to leave, and I’m guessing, you really don’t want her to see this.”
    “I’m coming,” I say breathlessly.
    “I’m not surprised,” Georgia replies with a smirk.
    “Oh my God.” I bury my head against Loïc’s shoulder. “Just go.”
    “All right, but hurry up.”
    “That’s lovely,” I say against Loïc’s chest.
    “Better your sister than your dad.”
    “Uh, definitely.” I chuckle dryly. “God, I wish we were alone right now.”
    “Me, too. Don’t worry. I’ll make it all better tonight.” Loïc’s voice is tight and gravelly and oh-so sexy.
    “Yeah, right. There’s going to be zero privacy this weekend.”
    “Oh, we’ll find some,” he says reassuringly.
    “I’m holding you to that.”

Loïc
    “I need London—mind, body, and soul. Forever.”
    —Loïc Berkeley
    I step out of the limo onto a velvety red carpet that extends from the curb and up to the walkway, ending at the large front doors of the art museum. The shiny black Gucci shoes adorning my feet feel so foreign. Hell, this entire night is straight out of the what-the-fuck-am-I-doing playbook. These shoes probably cost more than I make in a week. And this tux? I can’t even think about it—or the fact that Mr. Wright insisted I keep the entire ensemble. What the hell am I supposed to do with a tux after tonight?
    I don’t like it, any of it—the limo, the attire, the freaking red carpet. I mean, come on, how does all of this extravagance help people with ALS?
    Turning, I extend my arm toward the vehicle behind me. London places her soft,