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“Well then, Ash, we have something in common. Though that still doesn’t explain why you wanted to go with me.”

“Because you’re beautiful,” I say, and her eyes narrow a little.

“You don’t have to use a line on me. I already said yes,” she says. “Thank you for asking me, I wasn’t sure how else to get away from her.”

“It’s not a line,” I snap, and her eyes widen at the moment of harshness. I’m not trying to be sharp with her. The last thing I want to do is upset her. I have a feeling she deals with that a lot and always has. But I don’t appreciate her putting herself down. “I don’t use lines. And I never lie. If I say something, I mean it.”

“Okay,” she nods, fighting a strand of loose hair that keeps falling in her face. “Thanks, I guess.”

I chortle inwardly. I’m not used to people, girls especially, being so blunt with me. It’s refreshing.

“But just so you know,” she goes on, “you’re not really my type.”

I let out a short, gritty chuckle. “Oh, really?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m not a girl that can be bought.” Her words both intrigue and offend me. On one hand, I’m not used to that. Every girl can be bought, from my experience. And most of them prefer to be bought. On the other hand, assuming that’s my MO isn’t exactly a compliment, so I decide to have a little fun with it.

I stand up slowly and turn to face her. I look down at her; she looks up at me. I bend down, placing my hands on the glass and leaning in, caging her in place.

“Excuse my honesty, but most girls would pay me to be in your position right now,” I say.

Her eyes are dancing wildly and her breath is quickening, but she doesn’t shy away like I expected her to.

“Excuse my honesty, but I believe there is more to desire than wealth,” she says, and the word itself sends a surge of heat through my thighs.

Still, I hold face. “That’s good,” I tell her. “Because I have no interest in women like that.”

I stare at her, and she stares back at me. Studying. Trying to figure me out.

Good luck, sweetheart.

Then the ride comes to a stop. We are at the top.

“How…” she stutters, licking her lips and swallowing before going on. “How long does it usually pause?” she asks.

“It usually doesn’t. But they’ve made an exception for me.”

“Oh,” she says. “And how long do you plan to hold me hostage up here?”

I smirk and take a step back to give her some space. I want to be here with her, but only if she wants to be with me. The last thing I need is for her to cry wolf and I get pinned as the beast.

Despite the way this might look, I have no ill intentions. I wasn’t even planning on going on the Ferris wheel in the first place. But it’s a charity gala, and there are around a hundred people who don’t give a shit about the industry other than what it puts in their pocket. They likely care even less about the charity cause. The whole thing makes me want to jump into the ocean. This seemed like a more reasonable alternative.

“Do you want me to take you back?” I ask, knowing the answer. Her lip-biting confirms it.

“No. Not yet, anyway. It was getting a little…stressful…down there.”

I snort. “Is that the word you’d use to describe your sister?” I ask. “Stressful?”

“I mean, I could use other words, but I know most gentlemen prefer women who don’t swear,” she teases with a faux Southern accent. A bad one. And I laugh. Actually, laugh.

Touche.

“I prefer women who are real. That’s why I asked you to ride with me, I could tell you don’t put on airs, unlike your sister and basically anyone else at the gala,” I say. As we talk, her body language softens a little.

“So you prefer your women plain?” she asks.

“You’re not plain,” I tell her.