Page 28 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“Hmm. I suppose lunch is also out of the question?”
“I’m not interested in eating food with you, Count Egotistico.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not a count.”
“Yeah, I heard. Whoop-dee-do.”
I drop my voice and lean toward her. “So if you’re not interested in eating food with me, bella, what are you interested in doing with me?”
When she snaps her head around and glares at me, I look directly into her eyes. “Because we both know you’re interested in something. And so am I.”
A flush darkens her cheeks. She chews the inside of her lip. Something crackles in the air, as sharp as danger.
“I don’t do one-night stands.”
“How many nights will you be here?”
Our gazes hold. A vein throbs in the hollow of her throat. Her breath quickens, and my erection is so hard there must be no blood left anywhere else in my body.
As if she’s not sure she should be answering, she says, “Five. Maybe six.”
The heat that flashes over me is intense. I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted a woman so much. “Plenty of time to show me exactly how much you dislike men with oversize . . . egos.”
Silence stretches between us, not long but cavernously wide, filled with tension and unspoken need. Then, in a throaty voice, she says, “I dislike them a lot.”
It’s so blatantly sexual I almost groan. I lean closer, so close I can smell her skin. She smells like sunshine. Like the outdoors. Like honeysuckle and citrus and something else indefinable I want very badly to eat. Into her ear, I say, “Then you’re really going to hate me. You’ll hate me over and over and over. I’ll make sure, bella, that you’ll hate me more than any other man you’ll ever meet.”
She inhales against my throat. Resting on my arm, her fingers tremble. She takes a breath, then slowly blows it out. “Okay, fancypants, you’re on. I’m in room four-twelve. Give me ten minutes.”
She pulls away and meets my eyes. In the candlelight, her skin is flushed and rosy, her eyes shine, and her lips are darkest red against that pale skin.
I’ve never seen anything so lovely.
When I nod, she rises and walks away without looking back. It isn’t until she’s gone that I realize I still don’t know her name.
I take a moment to gather myself, then head back to my table. Antonio has obviously been watching our interaction, because he asks, “Someone you know?”
I smile, thinking of all the ways I’m about to get to know that gorgeous creature. All the delicious, dirty ways. “Let’s call it a night. Something came up.”
Antonio looks at the bulge straining the front of my trousers and lifts his brows. “Evidently.”
Without another word, I pull money from my wallet, leave it on the table, nod a farewell to Antonio, then head to the lobby, because even though she said ten minutes, that’s nine-and-a-half minutes too long to wait.
NINE
KIMBER
A fact I’ve recently come to understand: Womanizers are all alike. They’re arrogant, selfish, and convinced they’re doing you a favor when they throw their pretty peen in your direction.
I’m so over it.
When I get back to my room, I get the water hot for a bath and raid the minibar while the tub is filling. Fortified with a hefty rum and Coke, I strip, wind my hair into a messy bun, and slip into the hot water with a groan of pleasure.
What a shit day. Week.
I close my eyes and let my mind drift, taking the occasional sip from my drink. How could Papa have married that woman? That heartless ice cube of a woman? I start to get angry thinkin
g about it and chug the rest of my drink. Then my mind wanders into Euro Hunk territory, and I get even angrier.
