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I lowered my head, but not to kiss her lips. I knew that one of the most sensitive spots on a woman’s body was right behind her ear. I breathed against her skin there, then started working my magic.
Soft, barely-there kisses on her tender, sweet-smelling skin. Little nips. My fingertips grazed her over her clothes, coming close to all her erogenous zones. All the fun parts of her body I could not wait to play with.
Well, she was going to ask me nicely before the night was over. She was going to say pretty please.
Even then, I wasn’t sure I would let her come.
Her hips started to rock. I smiled grimly, doubling down on my efforts. I kissed her mouth, holding her hips so that I was pressed against her. Then I lifted my body away.
She groaned in protest. To tell the truth, so did I. I was torturing myself as much as I was torturing her.
I got ahold of myself and started again. Soft caresses, teasing touches, finally brushing her hard little nipple once, twice. Her whimpers got louder, more plaintive.
“That’s it, Evie . . .” I whispered as I let my hardness scrape back and forth between her legs. She was wearing a dress. I was in pants. I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of anything under her clothes. And somehow, it was the most erotic thing I’d felt in my life.
She was ready for me. I could feel it. Her breathing, her heat, it was all there, waiting for me.
I had a feeling Little Miss Evie was more than a little bit wet.
I gripped her thighs, not caring about making her beg anymore. I needed her. I needed the pressure.
I needed in.
Alarm bells went off. I was not going to stop. I was not even going to ask permission, the way things were going.
Bad Antonio. Real fucking bad.
I shoved myself away and was halfway across the room in a heartbeat. I leaned against the wall, not looking at her. My body was raging, desperate, furious that I hadn’t taken what she had been offering.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
“Antonio?”
I didn’t answer, my heart beating like a drum. I wanted to hang my head on the wall. Instead, I just rested against it, my body tense with the battle to stay put.
“Did I do . . . something wrong?”
I finally opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder at her. Oh, hell no. I closed my eyes immediately. She looked so sweet and delicious sitting there. Soft and rumpled. Her dress was pushed up around her thighs. Not obscenely. But goddammit, it made my fingers itch to tear the damned thing off her.
“Evie . . .”
She crossed her arms around her chest, giving herself a hug. Everything about her body language screamed ‘insecure.’ I didn’t want her to feel that way. I didn’t understand why she would.
Until it hit me.
She thought I didn’t want her.
“If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid of what I might do.”
“Afraid?”
“I want you to be my wife before I have you.”
“Oh,” she said, her cute little mouth shutting abruptly. I laughed.
“Nothing to say to that?”
She shook her head, staring at the floor.
“I need to go out,” I said abruptly. “Get some rest.”
I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and left, grabbing my keys and wallet. No joyride tonight, I decided. I needed to drink.
And I needed advice.
So I went to the best place to get both.
I went to find my brother.
“This place is different,” Vincent said with admiration, looking around the old-school bar I’d just opened with zero fanfare. It was all hardwood and green leather and top-shelf liquor, like an old men’s club.
Except this one allowed women. But it was no ordinary bar. It attracted an older, classier crowd. No one was doing shots. If someone even asked for one, we would have kicked them out. Quietly, of course.
“You like it?”
“Yeah,” he said, giving me his approval.
“Well, it’s yours.”
“What?”
“You always say you want to move us more mainstream. I’ve been shifting some of the funds around.”
Vince looked around, then back at me.
“This isn’t one of yours?”
“I told you, this one is family-owned. Which means it’s yours.”
“Ours,” he amended, and we clicked our glasses together. Real crystal. I’d picked them out myself. Like I said, this place was fancy as fuck.
“Ours,” I agreed, bowing my head. My brother ran the business from the top, but it was ours. I was no slouch when it came to the nightlife industry, that was for damn sure.
“There’s space next door. We could expand. Or make a restaurant with the same feel.”
He shook his head.
“I like that it’s small. It’s intimate. Maybe a little pasta place, though.” He gave me an assessing glance. “You all right? You seem keyed up.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“The girl?”
I nodded. “I’m fighting my instincts here.”
He grunted, knowing instinctively what I meant.
