“Here, try this,” she says.
Holly slides her plate over to me and I scoop up a plump ravioli, popping it into my mouth. There's an explosion of flavor when it hits my tongue and I'm pretty sure I make a sound just like she had. Which is to say, a noise bordering on the obscene.
The rest of the meal passes with lots of laughter and good, flowing conversation. The waitress comes by and quickly offers us coffee and dessert, but we decline, already stuffed to capacity. She mutters something I don't catch and drops the check cover on the table.
“How much do I owe?” she asks as she reaches for her purse.
“Please,” I say.
“Come on, going Dutch is only fair.”
I give her a grin and pull out my wallet. “Who told you I play fair?”
I slip some bills out of my wallet and slide it into the check cover, snapping it closed and set it on the edge of the table.
“At least let me give you some –”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “No,” I say. “The conversation was well worth the price of admission. You livened up what was going to be a boring night at the blackjack table followed by – well – sleep, I guess. So, thank you for that.”
She gives me a small smile. “Not much for gambling, huh?”
I shrug. “It's okay,” I say. “It can be fun with the right company, I guess.”
“Well, I'm sure if you ask our waitress, she'd be happy to accompany you.”
I laugh and throw my napkin at her. “You still sound kind of jealous to me.”
“You so wish.”
We stand, and I help her into her coat, letting my hand rest on the small of her back as I escort her out of the restaurant. As we pass by the infamous statue of the meatball eating Al Capone, I stop her.
“Wait, I need a picture,” I say.
She looks from the statue to me and laughs. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” I say. “How can you not want a photo of such an exquisite piece of art?”
My eyes linger on hers for a long moment and when I see the color rise in her cheeks, I realize the double meaning behind my words. Truth be told though, Holly is exquisite. I clear my throat and step back, slipping my phone out of my pocket to line up the shot.
“Okay, now, give me something to work with,” I say.
Holly giggles as she leans forward, lifting her leg up and putting it around Capone's waist as she pretends to bite the other side of the meatball. As she does it, her dress rides up a bit, exposing the milky white skin of her shapely thigh. It stirs something in me and I feel the fires ignite down low. I adjust my position, hoping to obscure the erection I feel coming on.
“Perfect,” I say, clearing my throat again.
I snap the picture and take a look at it, letting my eyes feast on the sensuous shape of her leg and curves. A moment later, she's pressing herself next to me, angling for a look. Standing that close to her, I'm suddenly very aware of the softness of her body. I feel her breast pressed against my arm and part of me wonders if it’s by design.
Even through my clothing, I can feel the heat radiating from her body, penetrating my skin and fanning the fire inside even more. I inhale deeply and breathe in the soft, subtle scent of her perfume and recognize the wonderful aroma of lilacs.
“I look like a cow,” she says. “You really need to delete that.”
“Hardly,” I say. “You look amazing. And the only way this picture gets deleted is if you kill me and take my phone.”
“I can arrange that,” she says. “I'm not a girl to trifle with. Remember, I've got a drop or two of Sicilian blood in my veins.”
“Clearly,” I say and laugh.
She lunges for the phone, but I snatch it back quickly, keeping it just out of reach. Given that I'm about eight inches taller than her, I hold the phone up, dangling it over her head, taunting her. She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head at me.
“If you expect to see me jump in these heels, prepare to be sorely disappointed,” she says and laughs.
“Well, it doesn't sound to me like you want this picture deleted all that badly, after all.”
She laughs and punches me in the chest as I slip the phone into my pocket and hand my ticket to the valet. He runs off to bring my car around, leaving us standing at the curb alone.
“I have to say,” I say, “I'm really happy that you let your hair down a bit. I'm glad to see you loosen up. Thank you for a fun evening. It was unexpected, but wonderful all the same.”
“I'm not always such a tight ass,” she replies. “I just don't always do well in awkward and – unexpected – situations. So, thank you for making it easy to have some fun.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, our eyes locked, a not unpleasant tension flowing between us. Though we'd lacked chemistry and connection before back at the nightclub, it seems like we've made up for lost time and what is being forged between us is undeniably electric. As I stare into her eyes, my every nerve ending feels like it's on fire and as she gazes back at me, I can't help but see the same emotion reflected.
Moving without thinking, I reach out and take Holly by the shoulders, pulling her to me. Leaning down, I press my lips to hers, fully expecting her to pull away. Though she's a bit stiff at first, a few seconds later, she melts into me, her mouth opening, our tongues slowly swirling around one another.
As I hear the car approaching, I reluctantly break the kiss, but keep my eyes locked on hers.
“Come to my hotel with me,” I say.
She hesitates for a moment, her face full of uncertainty – but her eyes filled with longing – and then nods.
Chapter Nine
Holly
What am I doing? What in the hell am I doing? I just agreed to go back to Brayden's hotel room with him. Although I'm mentally criticizing myself, spouting the usual “I'm not this kind of a girl” drivel, there's still part of me that is – excited.
I look over at the dark silhouette of his strong profile as he drives. His chiseled jawline and strong cheekbones seem almost at odds with the baby-soft smoothness of his cheeks. And yet, it somehow all combines to form one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen.
I have to admit, Brayden is not anything like I initially thought when Gabby first pulled me into his booth back at the club. My first impression was of the arrogant alpha-male, macho type of man's man. I figured he'd be flippant, caustic, and entirely condescending. Dismissive of women - like most disgustingly wealthy, heartbreakingly handsome men are.
Those types of men see women as playthings. As toys that only exist for their own entertainment and pleasure. As objects to be used and then discarded. And those types of men, I can not only see a mile off, I avoid like the plague.
Something about Brayden is different, though. He has some of those alpha-male qualities, that I can clearly see, but those don't define him. More than that, it almost seems more like a facade than anything. I guess a man in his position needs to be seen as the unquestioned leader. As a hard ass. As the man in charge.
Underneath all that though, is a man that's very funny. Goofy, even. He's got a razor-sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. He seems to always have a funny line at the ready. Not only that, he's fascinating and incredibly intelligent. He's a great conversationalist and a lot of fun to be around. And best of all, being with Brayden, just enjoying myself and having fun, allowed me to forget about the shitshow that is my life, for a while. That has to count for something, right?
It's all been very unexpected, to say the least. And I guess I allowed myself to get so caught up in that moment we kissed and in all the thoughts and emotions it set off within me, that I'd agreed to go back to his room with him.
What in the hell am I doing? One part of my mind argues. Why are you even questioning it? The other part counters.
“You okay?” he asks, looking over at me.
I turn to him and feel a ripple of fear mixed with anticipation course through my body. I nod and give him a smile I hope looks more genuine than it feels.