"Yes." I gave him a nod that was way more determined than I actually felt. “Yes, that’s my plan.”
He stared at me for several long, intense moments. Then his face suddenly broke into a wide grin. “Right-o, then. You can stay here with me and have some scran while we wait out the champer’s buzz.”
Wait. What?“Oh, that’s not what I meant?—”
The suite’s doorbell sounded before I could finish protesting.
“Yeah, come through, mate!” Mick called out, finally stepping back from me. “We’re all ready for ya!”
I discovered then that “scran” apparently meant “dinner” when François entered with a man in a hotel worker uniform pushing a rolling cart, on top of which sat several trays covered in golden lids.
“Oh, my gosh, you ordered dinner?” Forget the sunset. I gaped at Mick now. “How much did that cost? You shouldn’t have?—”
Mick just shook his head. “Don’t worry ’bout the cost, love. It’s just dinner. One dinner. That’s all you have to give me. Then you can knock off back to your Benton Budget setup if you want. Just don’t make me eat alone in this posh hotel room.”
He held out his hand with an almost comical pleading look. “C’mon, Kayla. One dinner. That’s all I’m asking of you right now. Please, don’t say no.”
I glanced down at his extended palm, rough and covered in calluses.
Please, don't say no.
His words echoed in my head. Short-circuiting my good sense.
Maybe that's why, instead of taking his hand, I rose onto my tiptoes, braced my hands against his chest...
And tentatively kissed him instead.
CHAPTER6
Kayla
It was an impulse,really.
A small test to assess whether I could actually handle intimacy with a complete stranger.
Handlehim.
Nothing more than an innocent peck
But by the time I lowered back down to my heels, his entire face had changed. Those black eyes of his were no longer just studying me, asking me to please stay for dinner.
Theyburned.And I felt anything but innocent under his gaze.
Some life-preserving instinct made me step back. At least, I tried to step back.
His arm shot out before I could, wrapping around my waist and banding me to him.
A primal beat. Then: “Get out. Get out now.”
He looked straight at me as he said this, making my heart jump. But I realized he wasn’t talking to me when François responded, “Right away, Monsieur. Let us know if anything else is needed.”
Mick didn’t answer the butler. Just pulled me in even closer as he and the uniformed hotel worker hastily departed the room.
Mick’s rigid length pressed into my stomach. Scaring me but somehow thrilling me at the same time.
Suddenly, my heart was beating so fast I felt a little breathless. As if I’d done an hour of cardio—not just briefly touched my lips to his.
“A’right, then,” he said when the door closed behind François. “I’m assumin’ the champagne’s worn off?”
