Page 64 of Billionaire Romance

8

Eric

This day has been torture. Not because of work, miraculously, but because I can't get Sally out of my brain and the way she pushed aside that curtain full of confidence, and yet she's feels so...fragile. My mind keeps spinning back to the curves of her body, breasts spilling out of a simple bra, and everything chaste and simple. I've been aroused all day, and I know that I'll likely be aroused even more tonight at dinner when I can just look at her. Another thing that I didn't necessarily intend. Normally on the eve of Valentine’s Day, I'm in the office fixing some crisis, and then going home to drink myself to sleep.

Tonight, I don't want to do that. I want to be with her, even if it means possibly having a couple of news stories about me having a new Valentine. I can handle it. I just realized that one hour wasn't enough time, and I want to talk to her. Find out what she likes and who she is and dig deeper into this thing that neither of us really understand.

I've had Jennifer make reservations at The Empire Room and reserve a car. If I have the chance to kiss Sally, I'm going to take it. I don't want to be stuck behind the wheel distracted. In fact, I need to leave now if I'm going to change in time.

I barely register getting home and changing because I'm just marking time until I can see Sally. After I put my tux on I still have time to kill, and I have to stop myself from getting undressed just to get myself off. This girl has taken over my brain, and for tonight, I refuse to question whether or not that's a good thing.

Finally, it's time to leave, and I get into the town car Jennifer ordered. The ride from my apartment to Sally's feels like an eternity even though it isn't actually that long. And then I'm ringing her doorbell and waiting, and waiting, and there she is, and I'm thinking that I should have gotten myself off because my cock is criminally hard.

The dress she's wearing is a deep crimson color, and it hugs her body like it was made for it. The design is simple and elegant, with not a whole lot of embellishment, but she doesn't need it. Sally is enough. Her hair is similar to last night, falling in curling waves. I want to have my hands in it again, holding her still so I can kiss her the way I really want.

I realize that I've been staring at her for a minute, and haven't said anything. "In case you hadn't already figured it out from my staring, you're stunning."

The pink that stains her cheeks is delicate, and I love seeing it there, and I hate it. Because the fact that she's blushing from such a simple compliment means that she's not used to it. And there's no reason she shouldn't be told this every day of her life. She'll be reminded for however long she's in mine. That same twinge in my chest that appeared when I was talking to Bianca earlier reappears. I push it aside. Because it's too fast, and I'm not my father. And of all things, I don't want to think about him tonight.

"Thank you," she says, taking my outstretched hand as I help her into the car. The darkened windows are perfect, because no one can see as I sit beside her and immediately pull her toward me for a kiss. I'm not usually one for PDA. I prefer privacy, and the club was an exception. Sally startles, and then melts against me in a way that makes me never want to stop kissing her. But I have to remember to take it slowly. So much of this is new to her, and I'm not going to be the man she remembers as ruining her first experiences.

No. I'm going to be the man she remembers who took the time needed to make those experiences perfect. When I pull away she's smiling. "Iris made me take my lipstick with me, and now I know why."

"So I can keep kissing you without fear of ruining your make-up?" I ask.

Her eyes flick up to mine, and I could fall into them if I tried, I think. "Kiss away," she says softly, and I do. Sally has a way of ruining my plans. I was going to make this about talking, about getting to know each other, but that will have to wait for dinner because I can't get enough of her lips or the way she tastes. It makes me want to taste her elsewhere, hear the sounds that she'll make when my mouth is on her. My cock has become a marble statue just imagining it.

Before I realize it, we're pulling up in front of the restaurant, and I'm a little annoyed that means we have to stop, until I see the glazed look in Sally's face and realize that I'm not the only one who might be disappointed. "We're here."

She bites her lip, the blush on her face telling me she's coming back to herself and realizing that she's spent the last twenty minutes making out with me. "Okay."

I help her out of the car, and there's a camera flash. I'm not surprised, given what day it is and where we are, that there are some photographers here. "Ignore them," I say. "They're going to take pictures of everyone who comes in tonight."

"Why?"

I grin. "Because the love lives of the rich and famous are apparently very interesting. Most celebrities don't celebrate on the day of Valentine’s Day if they're going to go out. The photographers know that if they want to catch people, they have to go the day before or the day after."

"So we're going to be in the paper?"

"I doubt it," I say, laughing. "I mean, it's a possibility, but I'm not really a celebrity. I'm sure there will be people who are far more interesting to report on than you and me. Would you be upset if we were?"

Sally shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. It's just...all of this. I'm not used to being in this world. I clearly don't belong in it."

I turn to her, and I know that we're still in front of the photographers, but I don't care. "You deserve this, Sally. You belong in any world you want to. Never doubt that." She's not looking at me, and even when I lift her chin she tries to not meet my eyes. "You don't believe me?"

"It's a little hard to. I'll explain when we get inside."

"All right."

I wasn't lying when I told her that I'm not a celebrity. I'm not, in the traditional sense of the word. I'm not a household name, and most people probably wouldn't know who I am. But in certain situations, I do have advantages. For example, when we enter the restaurant, I need no introduction and there is absolutely no wait. The hostess and smiles and greets us, and immediately asks us to follow. We do, to a lovely table for two in the middle of the room.

The Empire Room is very exclusive with just a dozen or so tables, so even though our table is in the center, there's plenty of room around us and we don't have to be concerned with being overheard. I pull out Sally's chair and she sits. I sit across from her as our waiter appears with the limited menu, but I'm not listening to him. I'm watching Sally. She seems dejected all of a sudden, and after the blissful glassy look that was on her face in the car, that's not what I want to see.

I hold up a hand to stop the waiter. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

"Of course, Sir." He disappears, no doubt used to the people who eat here and their need for privacy.

"Sally?" She looks at me. "What happened?"

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