By the time I was done getting the royal treatment, I was a little tipsy from the mimosas. If I hadn’t drunk a bottle of water between each drink, I’d have been three sheets to the wind. But a little tipsy wasn’t a bad thing.
I decided to skip getting my hair done since it’d been less than a month since my last appointment back in New York. Feeling good, I took my phone and sent Lorenzo a text.
Me: I’m ready to go shopping for a dress.
Lorenzo: I’m on my way. Wait inside the spa.
Me: I feel like Jell-O.
I giggled as I watched the little bubbles bounce as he was typing.
Lorenzo: Like Jell-O huh? What made you feel like Jell-O?
I debated answering the question honestly with a simple ‘you’. Because the man damn well did make me feel like Jell-O whenever I was around him. Hell, even when I wasn’t, I was just thinking about him while I was reading my books. I sighed. That was too blunt. Too honest. I was not drunk enough for that.
Lorenzo: B?
Me: The massage of course. I needed that. Thank you.
I bit my lip and waited for his response. It didn’t take long.
Lorenzo: You’re welcome. You can come out, I’m right outside.
I took a deep breath and put my phone back in my purse, then headed for the frosted doors that led back out to the main hub of the resort. Just like he said, Lorenzo was standing there waiting for me. His black jeans were fitted as if he were a male model. The black button-down shirt he wore was untucked, and the sleeves were rolled up on his tattooed forearms. His dark hair was a bit longer than traditional, and the scruff on his face did little to hide the sharpness of his beautiful, solid jaw. He was perfection.
I must have stopped to ogle him because he was staring at me with a bemused smirk on his face. “What did you have to drink?” He asked when I recovered my wits enough to keep moving toward him.
“A couple of mimosas while I was getting my nails done and my pedicure.” I smiled and took his arm instinctively. He didn’t push me away and sighed in relief. For a minute, I wanted all of this to be real. I wanted to live in this blissful dream for a few minutes before I had to return to reality and sober up.
“You said you wanted to go shopping?”
“Yes. I brought dresses that could possibly work for getting married in, but nothing for a cocktail dinner and a night out on the town.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a suit?” I asked him when I saw the men's clothing in the store window. I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice.
“Two.” He huffed softly. “One for tonight, and one for tomorrow.”
“Oh.” He must have heard the disappointment in my voice because he stopped me and turned me to face him, his hands cupping my shoulders.
“Bianca.” His voice was low and sexy. “Do you want me to buy a new suit?”
I bit my lip, my gaze flickered down to his chin. I could see the curve of his smile and those full lips. God, I wanted to know his taste, not just dream about it.
“Yes,” I finally answered, keeping my gaze away from his. I felt like the fizzy bubbles that were in my mimosas were tickling their way from my core to my chest.
“You’re blushing, Bianca,” he whispered as he crooked his finger and raised my chin.
Those bubbles affecting my core and chest started bursting as I felt his breath and the whispered words on my face.
“Yes,” I said, not even caring what he said, if it was a question, or if I answered correctly. His lips were right there, and I was hungry for him.
I felt his hand on my face, and I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing as my blood thickened in my veins. His arm wrapped around me, and he pulled me close. His tall, strong, hard body was pressed into my lean, willowy curves. ‘Oh, God,’ I thought to myself, ‘This is really happening.’
His lips brushed against my hair, and his thumb slid across my lower lip. “Bianca,” he said my name in a raspy whisper.
“Yes?” My question came out more as a plea for more.
