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‘Millie,’ he says slowly, his voice throaty and my name like magic in his mouth.
‘Would you like anything else?’
He lifts his eyes to mine and the very air between us seems to spark. A frisson dances down my spine. He holds the tumbler in the palm of his hand, cradling it, and his manner is contemplative. Thoughtful.
‘I’ll have another, if you’ll join me.’
‘I’m...still working,’ I say softly.
He shifts in his seat, looking over his shoulder, then turns back to me. ‘It’s not busy. Take a break.’
Such command! Such confidence. My first instinct, that I didn’t like his arrogance, reasserts itself, but it is quickly subsumed by other more immediate considerations.
I could take a break—Duncan wouldn’t care. But I’m not sure I want to concede to this man—not yet. So I stay standing, and eye him with some of the wariness I’m feeling. ‘This won’t take long.’
I’ve piqued his interest. I search for something to say to get me out of this but draw a blank. Besides, I want this.
Life’s too short for timidity.
‘Go on.’ He reclines in the chair, his large frame relaxed, his eyes intense.
‘It’s simple,’ I say, telling myself it really is simple. He hooks up with enough women for me to know that sex means very little to him. And I want this to be meaningless. A transaction. My virginity, for his experience. A first time that is pleasurable, that means nothing. A memory, for the album I’m collecting on this trip of a lifetime.
‘What’s simple?’ he asks, leaning forward a little, so that I catch a hint of his masculine fragrance, earthy and spiced, and my insides kick in immediate response. His legs are long, his thighs muscular. His pants strain across them and I force myself to hold his gaze. If he agrees to this, I’ll have time to admire his body later.
Be brave.
Be brave.
Be brave.
‘I want to go home with you. Tonight.’
One thick brow lifts, sardonic amusement the only emotion I can detect on his handsome, rock-hard features.
‘I see.’ He runs a finger around the top of his glass, a smile flickering on his lips.
‘I’m serious,’ I say with a shake of my head, swallowing past the sense of panic, ignoring a desire to wrench the words back into my mouth.
Suddenly the itch to fast forward three weeks and leave immediately for Paris wraps around me. The mortification is intense.
Heat stains my cheeks. ‘But maybe that’s a stupid idea. Forget about it.’
I take a step towards the bar but his hand reaches out, catching my wrist. It’s the first time we’ve touched and I think the feeling will stay with me for ever. Sensation zaps under my skin, setting miniature explosions raging in every cell. I’m electrified.
‘I didn’t say no,’ he growls and my stomach squeezes. His eyes latch onto mine, and I imagine what he’s like in court—formidable, intimidating, inquiring. And whip-smart. ‘Why?’
I swallow, knowing this is kind of the point of no return. I want this. I’m actually surprised by how much I want this. Now I just have to own that.
‘Because I’m a virgin, and I want you to be my first.’
CHAPTER TWO
HER WORDS ARE drumming through my head. I wait until we’re in the car and it’s moving and then turn to face her, the screen up between my driver and us.
‘You’re a virgin.’
It’s not a question, but I feel like I have to say it again just to try to unravel it.
