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I release her wrists, chuckling. “Of course not. Not on the first date, at least,” I wait until she visibly relaxes to add, “Maybe the second, or third. But don’t worry, you’ll see my home sooner than later.”
Flustered, Skye picks up the drink glass and tray, dusting the latter off while she avoids my eyes. She’s so nervous and sweet that it makes my heart, something I had once thought dead and gone, ache. I give her time to think about the date, but from the attraction in their air between us, I already know what her answer will be.
“Okay,” she says finally. “When and what time?”
“Tonight, and you’ll see.”
She looks around, probably for the boss she mentioned earlier, “I’m not sure when I'll be off work, but I know it’ll be later this afternoon.”
“I can wait. I’m a patient man. I’ll take my time for you, Skye.”
She flushes again, this time with a fleeting look of excitement. I have a moment of hesitation about my plans for this girl, who is obviously so much younger than I am, but I can’t even complete the entire thought. There is no part of me that would be content letting Skye walk out of my life now that I’ve met her. I just have to take it slow so I don’t scare her off.
Tenerife in general is so different from the dark alleys and underground clubs I had grown accustomed to in Italy. For such a beautiful country, I didn’t get to experience things like scenery or wine. Instead, I was a killer who had thrown his entire existence into his work. I did it to please my father, but when he took ill and I could suddenly see my future as the boss of the Domiano syndicate spreading out before me, I was filled with the sudden desire to see what else life had to offer before I shackled myself to that life forever.
There were women I could have married back home, too. Started a family with them, maybe marry for the political alliance and have children that would stand to inherit both family’s fortunes, but I can’t stomach the idea of being with some of the she-vipers my father introduced me to. Now, looking at Skye, and the way she shines, it’s clear why I never settled. It was all leading up to this moment.
She deserves more than a man with blood-soaked hands and a past so dangerous that we would never be able to fully relax. I’ll protect her, keep her far from the eyes of all the enemies I have made over my career, but I still have no illusions that the life I offer is one many women desire. But I’m a selfish bastard, which means she’s going to be mine, no matter the cost.
“I–I’ve got to get back to work,” she tells me, but the way her body sways towards me lets me know she doesn’t really want to go.
Let’s leave, quit this bullshit job, and I’ll take care of you forever,I think, watching as she turns and leaves me behind.Just say the word, Skye, and you’ll never want for anything ever again.
It’s not time yet for those declarations, but watching her talk to other people, giving them a glimpse of all the sweet warmth, I have to clench my fists to stop myself from jumping up and sweeping her out of here.
Thinking back to what she said about her manager, I know it won’t be hard to convince her to quit. It’s all a question of when.
Skye turns, makes eye contact with me again, and a frisson runs through my body like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Fate, or something like it. I’ll play this game of dating, taking it slow, but when I want something, I get it. And right now, all I want is Skye.
Chapter 2
Skye
It all happened in what felt like an instant. A ridiculous, clumsy instant. One moment, I was making flirty eyes with the hunk at the bar, and the next moment I was wiping the liquor I had just dropped off of his chest, while being all up in his personal space.
And wow. Up close, whatever energy that had been rolling off him I had just chalked up to attraction was so,sostrong. It wasn’t just attraction, either, I had quickly come to realize.
Unlike so many other patrons at Salt and Breeze, this guy didn’t get pissed when I spilled his drink. Instead, he seemed almost amused, and by the time I recognize just how close I am to him, it’s too late. Heat rising up my neck, I keep dabbing at the wet spot on his otherwise-spotless black suit jacket, apologies spilling from my lips before I can stop them.
This close, I want to climb into his lap, bury my face in his neck, anything possible just to be a little bit closer. I feel a surge of need rush through me, unstoppable. When he grabs my wrists in his giant hands, rough thumbs caressing the sensitive inner part of my wrist, I swear I can feel myself melting right then and there at the feet of this perfect specimen of a man.
I raise my eyes slowly, shivery and flustered, to meet his gaze. My heart starts pounding, an echoing pulse answering from between my legs, just from looking him in the eye. I’m in trouble, but apparently I don’t even have enough self-preservation to get myself out of it.
His eyes are the exact shade of the liquor I had poured for him, brown but bright with copper as the sun reflects in them. Square jaw, strong nose that might be too big on any other man, and a mouth that makes my knees feel weak with the possibilities it holds.
Raoul is a different breed from the surfer boys and rich vacationers I see every day. His hair is inky black, cut into an expert undercut, but I get the feeling it just falls into place naturally. He probably demands obedience from anything and everything in his life, hair included.
I have the wildest urge to reach out and run my hand over his stubbled, bronze jaw. Maybe it’s the cologne he’s wearing, something that reminds me of the deep evergreen forests I would visit as a child, or the welcoming heat rolling off his body, but it makes me waver there in front of him, feeling silly, inexperienced, and for the first time in my life, turned on to the point of being uncomfortable.
“Sweetheart,” he rumbles, voice a silky baritone. “No need to get so worked up.”
Raoul might be some kind of warlock, because I’m not even sure what happens next, but before I know it he’s inviting me out on a date and I accept. A date fortoday,of all things! I’ve never been so impulsive. I’m excited, though, in that frivolous way that always seems to bite me in the ass later on. As always, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, I’m going to follow my joy, right into the arms of a near-stranger if that’s what it comes to.
Just into his arms, though. Not his bed. From the looks of Raoul, losing my virginity to him might be the death of me, and if not, it would surely ruin me for other men forever.
I watch him stand to leave, dropping way too much money for his single spilled drink on the bar top, and he’s even taller than I anticipated. 6’5, maybe even 6’6. I’ll look like a hobbit next to him when we go out.
That height difference won’t matter so much if you’re laying down,my treacherous, horny brain informs me.
