“Even though you want to keep emotions out of it?” I murmur, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as his breath tortures my skin. It’s pure agony, but in the most addicting way.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be attracted to the person.” He lightly runs a finger down the curve of my neck, his breath following the same path, so close yet still not crossing any line. “And I am profoundly attracted to you.” His hands cup my cheeks and my eyes flutter open, staring into his enamored gaze once more. “You’re one of the most alluring women I’ve seen in a very long time. You have a classic beauty to you. One women would pay thousands of dollars to have, but it’s natural for you.”
I part my lips, my breath coming in pants the longer his body remains pressed against mine.
“And you’re confident in your own skin. Skin thousands of men would love to taste.” He smooths my hair behind my shoulder, his hand brushing the exposed flesh. “But what had me absolutely mesmerized was this mouth.” He shifts his eyes from mine, focusing on my mouth.
When he brings his lips within a breath of mine, my knees weaken. Desperate for some sort of release, I squeeze my thighs together. Mr. Winky, as I’ve named my battery-operated boyfriend, will definitely be getting a workout tonight.
“The things that came out of it were witty, charming, and full of hope. With each word you spoke, I was hungry for more. More of your words. More of your mouth. More of you.”
He leans even closer, his lips hovering so near to mine I can practically taste them. Wine. Spice. And a hint of chocolate from the soufflé we shared.
“No kissing,” I murmur, my teeth chattering. “You agreed.”
I sense his mouth curve into a smile. Then he drops his hold on me. I open my eyes to see him retreating down the stairs.
I’m unable to move, to breathe, to think, a statue frozen in time as I watch him walk toward the car. Before he ducks inside, he glances back at me, a mischievous grin on those lips I was a whisper away from kissing, despite insisting we not.
“Kissing is for amateurs, Guinevere. You’re in the big leagues now.” He holds my gaze a moment longer, then winks before disappearing into the car.
As his car drives off into the night, I lean against the door, placing my hand over my racing heart, trying to calm it down.
One thing is abundantly clear… I am royally fucked.
Chapter Fifteen
“How did the date go?” Chloe asks the following morning when I emerge from my makeshift bedroom. I head toward the one-cup brewer in the tiny kitchen and pop a pod into it. Instantly, the aroma of coffee fills the air. Just the smell of this magic potion helps erase the cobwebs from my restless and frustrated night, thanks to one Julian Gage.
“It wasn’t a date, Chloe.” I avoid her eyes as I answer. “Just dinner to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“So you said yesterday.” She looks up from her laptop where she’s probably working on a story about some celebrity gossip that hit the wires within the past few hours. Chloe typically pulls all-nighters on Fridays and Saturdays, since that tends to be when all the juicy stories happen. “Have you come to a decision about this ‘arrangement’?”
After adding a bit of milk and sweetener to my coffee, I join her on the couch, keeping my head held high. “I have. And I’ve agreed to help.”
“Hmm.” Her lips press together.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively, returning her attention to her laptop.
“No. It’s not nothing. You don’t hmm unless you want to say something but are holding back. What is it? Why did you go from wanting me to jump Julian’s bones to giving him the stink eye the instant he showed up at the door last night? Is it because he’s ridiculously good-looking and you don’t think it makes sense for someone like me to be with him?” With each word, my voice gets louder. “Because I’m more than aware I don’t fit the mold of the cookie-cutter, waif-like model a guy like him would normally be with. But I—”
“Evie, no. It’s not that. It’s just…” She blows out a breath as she pulls her gray and lilac locks into a messy bun on top her head. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Julian Gage?”
I furrow my brow. “Why does it matter? And how do you know his last name? I don’t think I told you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then how—”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
I shrug, feeling like an idiot for not Googling him before going out with him. Last time I was single, Myspace was still a thing. That’s how long it’s been.
Pushing out an exasperated sigh, Chloe types on her laptop before turning it toward me. Heat rushes through me when Julian’s vibrant blue eyes stare back from a Wikipedia article. The ache I’d momentarily relieved with the use of my battery-operated boyfriend is back and more intense than it was last night.
“Evie?”
I refocus on Chloe, discreetly wiping at my lip in the hopes that I’m not drooling. Thankfully, I’m not.
“Should I leave you and the laptop alone for a minute?” She giggles.
Rolling my eyes, I zero in on the screen and read a rather lengthy biography of the man who left me a quivering pile of hormones last night.
Julian Gage was completely unknown until Theodore Price, a distant relative of the Vanderbilt family, passed away, leaving the majority of his vast fortune to him. This prompted a fierce contest over the will by Mr. Price’s children, who assumed they’d inherit everything. While Mr. Price didn’t disinherit them altogether, providing each of his three children a rather generous testamentary gift…in most people’s standards…it was nothing compared to the billions of dollars he’d gifted Julian.
Mr. Price’s children tried to allege the will was invalid and that Julian exerted undue influence over an old man who wasn’t of sound mind. However, the court found that his children wouldn’t know whether he were of sound mind, considering they’d rarely spoken to him over the past few decades. Mr. Price’s housekeeper testified to that fact. She also stated that Mr. Price and Julian become acquainted when Mr. Price saw him in a local park and offered to teach him how to play chess, since he seemed interested in the game. I can’t help but smile at the image in my mind of a sixteen-year-old Julian befriending an older man over a game of chess. When I was sixteen, most boys only cared about video games. I can’t see Julian as someone who was ever interested in video games.
Upon Mr. Price’s death, Julian took the helm of the Price-Young empire. Hotels. Restaurants. Commercial buildings. There are hundreds of properties in New York City alone. It’s all incredibly impressive, but what catches my eye is the mention of a non-profit he’s tied to. An organization aimed at helping victims of domestic violence. It certainly piques my interest, another puzzle piece of who Julian truly is sliding into place.
I should have stopped reading there, but the section labeled “Personal Life” grabs my attention and I scroll down. Labeled one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, there are various photos of him posing with beautiful woman after beautiful woman. Models. Actresses. Heiresses. Every single one of them is all legs with barely an ounce of fat, a complete one-eighty from my ample chest and curvy hips. It again begs the question I posed last night… Why me?
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Chloe asks when I push away from the laptop, a sickness forming in my stomach.
“Why would he pursue me if he has his pick of any number of gorgeous women?”
She shrugs, silently agreeing. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Evie. That’s all.”
“What do you know about him?” I meet her eyes, unsure if I want to hear her answer.