Connor just chuckles patronizingly. “Ah yes, my mistake. I forgot your extensive psych background from not quite a year of academic psych study.”
His low blow about my derailed career ambitions hurts more than I want to admit. Trust him to use the information from my file as ammo.
I cross my arms, partly in defense, partly as a challenge. “I learned enough to recognize an overinflated ego when I see one. But I’m sure a successful businessman like you has at least one skill to back up all that arrogance and swagger.”
“Come on, Lexi, you know I’ve got skills.” His eyes scan my flushed cheeks, pleased with himself. “And you’re dying to experience them firsthand. You think I don’t know what you want? It’s been written all over that pretty face since you walked in here.”
I lick my abruptly parched lips. He watches the gesture, his gaze darkening.
“Hate to break it to you and your ego, but you’re way off what I want,” I rasp, sounding more like a phone sex operator than the poised professional I’m aiming for.
Those intense blue eyes bore into mine, cutting through my weak attempts at indifference.
“Is that so?” he hedges, a half-smile forming. He reaches out, lightly pushing a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers just grazing my skin. I suppress a shiver.
I force my shaky legs to stay firm, my heart racing like crazy. “You’re really confident, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
Objectively, the guy’s a sensory overload—undeniably handsome. Pair that with my weakness for arrogant jerks, and this situation gets complicated fast.
So when Connor starts dipping his head closer, alarms blare that he’s actually going to kiss me.
My brain short-circuits. Is this really happening?
Instead, he takes my trembling hands, placing them firmly on his chest, chuckling softly at my startled intake of breath.
Fresh heat scorches my nerve endings feeling those firm, sculpted pecs that I can now confirm are indeed rock-fucking-hard.
His voice gets all low and gravelly, right in my ear. “Indulge me a moment here. You’re questioning my ability to dial up the romance? Imagine this: I turn up at your doorstep holding flowers, the exact shade of your eyes. I’ve been all over town for hours, tracking down a scent that’s unmistakably you—bold, a tad untamed, yet unmistakably vibrant. And then, I whisk you off to a place so magical, so steeped in romance, it feels like it was made just for you . . .”
I have to catch my breath. Damn, this guy knows how to lay it on thick.
He’s still holding my hands against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing. I feel my palms start to sweat.
“Would I tempt you then, Lexi?” His voice takes on a dangerous tone. “If I pulled out all the stops for one night just for you, paid attention to every little thing to show how damn incredible I find you . . . would it get that sexy brain fired up?”
For a moment I’m caught up in the fantasy, pulse racing. Part of me wants to surrender to his intense sensuality.
Maybe he’s actually serious.
“But hey, just so you know, I’m with you—the brain is without a doubt the sexiest thing about a woman.”
Oh god. My sexy brain is moments from meltdown.
Now I get it. It’s not just his looks. The way he’s gazing at me, saying these things like I’m the most captivating woman alive . . . it works. It’s a neat seduction technique.
Holding my gaze hostage, Connor drags my trembling hands down his chiseled chest, brushing over his hardened nipples.
My heart pounds like it’s trying to break free.
“What’s the story with your tattoo?” I ask breathily, tracing the intricate pattern inked across his chest, feeling his warmth.
He glances down. “It’s Celtic, an old Irish symbol for protection and loyalty to family. Marks my commitment to those I care about.”
His eyes lock with mine again and my mouth goes dry. Sweet mother of god, if I survive this without melting into a puddle of my own arousal, it’ll be a miracle.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”
He lets out a low chuckle, probably picking up on my nervous chatter.
