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“Show me,” she whispered.
“Show you what?”
“How dirty you are.”
This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t sure who it was like, but for the first time in weeks she was having fun.
He blinked. “You’re pretty, Ella. Really pretty. But you don’t want this. Believe me, you want a guy your own age.”
She’d had a guy her own age, but he’d hurt her. Maybe she wanted somebody to erase all that pain.
Just for one night.
“Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked him.
“I’ve been thinking about nothing else.” His voice was low.
“Then why don’t you?” she asked him.
“I’m trying to figure that one out myself,” he said, and the thickness of his voice sent another shiver down her spine. She didn’t have to look down to know that her nipples were hard against the fabric of her dress.
“Stop thinking and do it,” she told him. “And then I’ll walk away, I promise.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmured. But he curled his hand around her neck, his fingers feathering her hair, and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were intense, dark. She slid her hands along his chest, touching him for the first time.
Instead of just being touched.
His chest was warm and hard. Either he worked out or he was wearing armor under there. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and slid her hands around his neck.
“Kiss me, Irish,” she whispered.
And he did.
ChapterTwo
This shouldn’t be happening.
But it was, and her soft lips were driving him wild, her arms wrapped around his neck as her perfect body molded against his.
And yeah, certain parts of his body approved without reservation. Especially those that hadn’t seen any action since his divorce last year. Ignoring the warning note sounding in his mind, he slid his hand down her back, his fingers lingering at the base of her spine.
Ella gasped into his mouth.
So she was sensitive. He stored that information away and kissed her harder, desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was too old and too jaded for her.
She didn’t seem to care, though. Her fingers caressed the skin at the edge of his hairline, sending a pulse of need through him. It has been way too long, and he was too on edge and this needed to stop.
Not least because they were in a bar.
Reluctantly, he kissed her softly, then pulled back. Her eyes were trained on his, dark and sparkling. She let out a long breath and he could feel her breasts brush against his chest.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he murmured, because he didn’t just want to kiss her. He wanted to talk to her. Watch her eat. Hear more about France and wine and whatever else she had to talk about.
“I can’t,” she said, looking torn. “It’s my friend’s birthday.”
“Tomorrow then?” He was supposed to fly back to London tomorrow night. But he could change his ticket. Flying back on Sunday would be fine. She was worth it.
“I leave tomorrow morning.” She sounded sad about that. Her face was flushed, and the color looked good on her.
