Yet, it’s just not in my nature.
I told you I’m not a good man.
I take what I want.
And if it’s possible, I want her even more tonight than I did today. Even if she’s ignoring me.Especiallybecause she’s ignoring me.
When the waiter finally clears her plate, I watch as she shakes her head, those long curls bouncing as she declines whatever he’s offering—which, for his sake, better be coffee or dessert. If anyone’s going to steal her away from her boyfriend, it’ll be me.
She pushes her chair back slowly with the backs of herlong legs. Finally, she turns, and I get a glimpse of her stunning face. The sight hits me like a punch to the chest; the air rushes out in a low whoosh.
My memory didn’t do her justice.
Not even close.
The woman is a God damn knockout.
And however fucktastic she looked in that bikini earlier, the dress she’s wearing tonight clings to every single one of her curves like it was poured on. She’s like a living breathing Grecian goddess. And that lipstick… it’s fucking criminal. Red is supposed to signal stop. Tell that to my dick because he’s ready to go.
Her huge chocolate eyes lock on mine. The same chemistry as earlier pulses between us, tethering us with an invisible thread. She might have a boyfriend, but clearly he’s not giving her what she needs. Not when she’s firing me thosefuck-meeyes, silently daring me to challenge her.
She swaggers closer, hips swaying with every slow, deliberate movement. She wields her womanly curves like a weapon, slowing to a stop as she reaches my table. ‘Enjoy your dinner, California,’ she purrs, trailing her index finger over my tablecloth. Another deliberate movement that has me imagining her trailing it over my torso before sneaking it beneath the band of my boxers.
Oh, she’s good.
She knows exactly how to play the game.
But I’m better.
‘You skipped dessert.’ I lift my wineglass to my lips before I can blurt something stupid, namely demanding she join me in my suite for some.
‘Didn’t see anything I fancied.’ She pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head.
‘Is that right?’ I place my glass down on the table. ‘Perhaps you were looking at the wrong menu.’
‘I wasn’t aware there was more than one choice.’ She arches a single eyebrow in a silent challenge.
‘There’s always more than one choice, Irish.’ I fire her a wink. ‘You just have to know where to look.’
‘And where would that be exactly?’ She flattens her palm on the table, stooping lower to hold my gaze. Heat radiates between us. Desire sparks through my entire body, sharp and demanding.
Does she feel it?
She has to.
It’s burning me up worse than a fever.
I spent all afternoon by the pool. Watched lots of women walk by—not all of them taken. Some of them topless and staring, less than subtle in their intentions. Yet not one of them had the effect on me that she does.
I relax back in my chair with a casualness I don’t necessarily feel. ‘Lose your bionic boyfriend for the night and I’ll show you.’
She throws her head back and lets out that same infectious laughter I heard at the pool. Something strange stirs in my sternum.
‘Bionic boyfriend!’ she gasps, clutching her chest. My eyes drop to the firm swell of her breasts beneath that low-cut, floaty dress. ‘That’s something he’s never been called before.’ Her eyes are literally watering with tears of laughter.
‘Bionic?’ I ask, inclining my head. It’s on the tip of my tongue to insist she sits—share a drink with me, or dessert of any variety—I need to know more about her. But I already know what the answer will be. There might be an insane amount of chemistry crackling between us, but she has a boyfriend. A big, burly fucker at that.
Big as he is, I don’t doubt I could take him, but do I want to have to? I’m supposed to be on holiday.
