“This might sound a little strange, but I’m glad you kidnapped me.” He clinks his glass against mine. “You’re a breath of much-needed fresh air.”
“Thanks?”
He smirks, and we both take a drink. I study him over the rim of my glass and try not to bite my lip. He looks insanely handsome tonight, and I have the ridiculous urge to run my fingers through those thick waves on his head. Brush that wayward lock off his forehead and maybe press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
It’s the alcohol talking. Nothing more. Except I’ve only had a sip. I gulp down more, finishing my glass of wine faster than I should, but needing the liquid courage.
As Ryder pours me more, the server brings our food. “Oh, this smells delicious,” I gush, reaching for my knife and fork. Ryder waits for me to take a bite, and this time I’m the one moaning. The blend of flavors is delicious and it practically melts in my mouth. It could quite possibly be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Well?”
I make the chef’s kiss motion as I chew. “Excellent choice, Mr. McKay.”
“I’m glad you approve, Miss Diamond.”
I take another gulp of wine, allowing my inhibitions to wash away. The rest of our dinner passes in a flurry of flirty banter and conversation. Ryder is a rare, very intriguing combination of tech genius and sex god. He’s so smart and knowledgeable about everything, but he doesn’t come off like a know-it-all nerd who can’t talk to girls. Quite to the contrary, he’s very smooth and knows all the right things to say. But it seems genuine, not just like a douchebag trying to get into my pants. I love how sincere he is, how he makes me laugh so easily.
By the time we’re finished and leaving the restaurant, the moon hangs high in the sky, the fresh air feels wonderful and I’m feeling damn good, thanks to my very charming date and too much wine. This is truly the best night I’ve had in a very long time.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asks, offering his arm.
“Sure.” I slide my arm through his and we stroll down the cobblestone street, passing closed shops and other restaurants. I’m a little tipsy and lean against him. His cologne teases my nose, and I breathe it in deeply. “You always smell so good,” I murmur. “Like citrus and amber.”
He chuckles. “You can thank Tom Ford. It’s his Neroli Portofino.”
“Thank you, Tom Ford,” I declare, snuggling closer.
“You always smell like jasmine.” He leans closer, his nose brushing against my hair, sending goosebumps racing down my spine.
“Le Labo Jasmin 17. It’s my favorite.”
“It suits you.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow. “How so?”
“It’s sensual and a little mysterious. Definitely your signature scent.”
My pulse kicks up and, without thinking about it, I lay my head against his shoulder. “You know, I think you’d make a really good boyfriend,” I confess.
“You think so, huh?”
Oh, crap.Did I say that out loud? “Don’t mind me, I’m just a little pissed.”
“You know what they say—a drunk woman’s words are a sober woman’s thoughts.”
“Okay, so I’m not completely pissed,” I admit. “Just pleasantly tipsy.”
He laughs, and we turn the corner, heading down a quiet side street. “You’re so very British.”
“IamBritish. And proud of it, despite my tendency to cover my accent. But self-preservation and all. It’s just part of the act, you know?”
He stops, turning to face me. We’re so close, and suddenly I’m surrounded by him—his warm citrus and amber scent, the heat coming off his much bigger body. I take a step back and bump into a building’s stone wall.
“I like therealyou,” he murmurs, caging me in. “The raw, unfiltered you.”
“You don’t know the real me,” I counter.
He lifts a hand, sliding it through my hair and around to cup the back of my neck while his other hand grips my hip. “I’d like to.” His voice drops even lower, slightly raspy. “You’re the most fascinating, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
