Page 24 of Only the Wicked
She tilts her head, questioning, reminding me of the current predicament.
“You don’t actually believe that story about Thor, do you?”
I bark out a laugh that echoes down the quiet corridor. She’s referring to the myth that Thor gained immortality by swimming in a river of menstrual blood.
“You like mythology?”
She shrugs like, of course she does. “Who doesn’t?”
This woman. She’s too good to be true.
“You’ve got great taste in music and you like mythology. I definitely want to see you again.”
“I’d like to see you again, too.”
My hand remains stubbornly on her hip. I don’t want to let her go. I’m not ready to say goodnight. It’s still early. And there are things we can do.
“Did you pack your vibrator?” The look she gives me will be seared into my brain for eons. It’s the deep brown eyes, her slight intake of air through her rose-pink lips, the slope of her neck.
“Excuse me?” Those swollen lips spread into an incredulous half-smile.
“Vacation. Lots of women do.”
“And I’m like lots of women?”
“Are you?” My fingers caress her bottom, up and down, shifting the summery fabric over her curve.
“I guess I am.”
Fuck, yes. “Excellent. Then there are definitely things we can do.”
Chapter
Eight
Rhodes
She opens the door, uncertainty painting her features. Perhaps I should heed her hesitation and ignore the electric charge reverberating through my extremities. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced a physical reaction like this to a woman I just met… Hell, I can’t remember the last time I met a woman outside of the corporate world. The random hook-ups don’t count.
Would I be pursuing her if she lived nearby? If I might run into her again? No, the intensity of my desire would have me backing up, taking time and space to ensure I maintain control.
Perhaps that’s what I’m sensing from her. As far as dinner dates go, we had a good one. Take the win, re-group… It would be the reasonable thing to do.
“Come on in,” she says, the curve of her lips eliminating any sign of unease. “We’re two adults, right?”
“On vacation.”
With my pointed statement, I step past her, briefly taking in her room. There’s a gas fireplace with two chairs in front of it and a four-poster bed against the wall, directly behind the chairs. A door opens into what I presume is the bathroom. French glass doors open onto a small balcony with an iron rail and blooming flower boxes.
The door clicks closed.
“Where’s your vibrator?”
“You’re serious?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s… Let’s get a drink.” She approaches a cabinet next to the fireplace with two wine glasses and a bottle of wine with a price tag dangling from the neck. I have the same set up in my villa.
