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“Funny.” He looked away from me and out to the street. “I don’t fly choppers, though.”
“Not yet, at least,” I joked.
“In any case, I’ll be coming with you all on the train.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Disappointed?”
“Oh yeah . . . I can’t imagine being trapped on a train with you for almost ninety minutes.”
He stood erect and gently nudged my side with his elbow. The slight touch had me snapping my eyes shut.
Boss, billionaire, beautiful. I had to remember the three Bs to avoid. And the one D—dangerous.
“Anna?” He looked over at me.
I faced him straight on, my back brushing up against the brick wall. “Yeah?”
“Can we be friends?”
“I kind of thought we were. Or, at least, that we were becoming friends.”
I didn’t kiss my friends, though.
“Maybe I should rephrase that.” He took a step closer to me, and his hand slipped to my hip. “Can we start being friends in sixty seconds?”
I would have laughed if his hand wasn’t on me, if his face wasn’t so damn close to mine. Instead, I had trouble swallowing. “What? Why?”
“Well, there’s something I want to do again before we’re friends.” His free hand came up over my shoulder and to the brick wall. His chest moved up and down as his eyes shifted to my mouth, his breathing staggered.
Oh. “Oh . . .”
His mouth dropped over mine, hard and fast. A grumbling sounded from deep in his throat.
My hands moved up to his chest and roamed over his pecs, dying to feel his hard flesh beneath my fingertips. More than anything, I wanted to slip my hands under his shirt, but I couldn’t think straight as he deepened the kiss, our tongues meeting.
His hand on my hip tightened as he pulled me closer to him until our bodies were touching. The heat from him, from me, mingled into a thick, delicious cloud.
His kiss was demanding—full of need. He claimed me with his mouth.
But as quickly as it had started, it was over.
When he pulled away, panting a little, I had to shut my eyes and try to catch my breath. The loss of his lips, his touch, cut a painful slice through my heart.
He rubbed both hands over his head and dropped his arms to his sides. “I—”
The tension following our Saturday-night kiss came back to haunt us. But I wasn’t feeling like my typical, shy self, so I teased, “You gonna say you’re sorry again?” I was hoping to make him laugh. To lighten the mood. “Friends now, right?”
His warm thumb touched my bottom lip as he burned me with his stare. My hand swooped up and found his arm, quickly flipping the inside of his arm to face me. There were just lines with dashes going through them—it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. “What does it mean?”
He yanked his arm free. “It’s ancient Gaelic.” His voice was cold. Ice. Freaking. Cold.
He coughed. “I think—”
“It’s late,” I cut him off, knowing he was about to send me on my way, and there was no sense in waiting for the rejection. “I should get back to the hotel.”
His lips closed and he nodded.
