He caught my hand and pulled me closer, kissing me with an intensity that made my knees weak. I melted against him, enjoying the solid warmth of him.
When we broke apart, I was breathless. “We might not make it to dinner if you keep kissing me.”
“We should leave now, yes?” he said, though he didn’t release me.
I laughed and grabbed my wrap and purse. “So, where are we going?”
“It is surprise.” He offered his arm, and I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I like surprises.”
A limo was waiting on the street below. The driver had the door open before we reached the curb.
“Hold up. You rented a whole limo for our date? Okay, I see you tryna impress me.”
I slid inside and crossed my legs, the dress riding higher on my thighs against the leather seat.
“I own this vehicle.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean you own it?”
“Precisely what I said, Dede.” He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I have a profitable business.”
“What is it exactly you do?” I asked, keeping my tone casual even as my mind raced through possibilities.
“I am in the automobile industry,” he replied. “For many years. I do well for myself.” He paused, meeting my gaze directly. “Exceptionally well.”
I studied him with renewed interest. The custom suit made more sense now. So did the confidence that bordered on arrogance.
The driver parked near the marina and came around to open the door. Aris stepped out first, then extended his hand.
I took it, emerging from the car and taking in the boats bobbing in their slips. He guided me along the boardwalk toward the docks at the far end, where a gorgeous vessel waited.
“Let me guess.” I stopped walking. “The boat is yours, too.”
“The yacht, I own it,” he confirmed. “This is problem?”
“Not a problem, just... I clearly misjudged the tax bracket we’re operating in here.”
“Are you uncomfortable with displays of wealth?”
“It’s not the wealth itself that makes me cautious. It’s what wealth sometimes expects in return.”
“An understandable concern. But I assure you, I expect nothing beyond what you freely choose to give.”
I held his gaze, searching for bullshit and finding none. “Lead on, Mr. Yacht Owner.”
He guided me onto the gangway. The heat of his palm on my lower back seared through my dress, and I stumbled.
“You should hold me,” he murmured close to my ear, steadying me. “These heels, they were not designed for nautical adventures.”
I turned my face toward his, and our mouths are suddenly inches apart. “Maybe I should take them off.”
“Not just yet, no.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
His gaze traveled down my body, lingering on my heels. “They complement the dress perfectly.” His voice dropped lower. “And I am enjoying the view far too much.”
