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“We’d be exclusive,” I finish. “I get it. I obviously wouldn’t see anyone else, and neither would you.”
She stares at me confounded. “You want to date me?” she repeats.
“Exclusively,” I state. “Yes.”
She swallows hard and then looks back up. “Does that mean no sex?”
This time I do smirk. “For a little while, not that I want that, but the anticipation will be worth it. If we’d met any other way, I would woo you. And that means no sex for the first few dates. I would seduce you slowly, Ariana. I haven’t done that in a long time. What I’ve had in the past with other women is just sex, nothing more. It’s different with you.”
“Why?” she whispers as my hands move down to link with hers. Her eyes soften at my touch.
“If I wanted just a physical relationship, Ariana, I wouldn’t be here because I know you deserve more than that. You’d never be anybody’s fuck buddy, and I’d never treat you as such. You’re special. And I can’t stand the thought of any other man being with you.”
She stares at me with wide eyes for a few moments. “I think I like the sound of that.”
I grin. “So does that mean I can take you out on a date?”
She bites her lip, all anger and animosity vanishing from her face. Pity. She’s beautiful when she’s mad. “Yes, but do I get to choose where we go?”
“As long as you don’t say to a Taylor Swift concert or anything.”
“You’re a bit too old for that,” she snarks. I nip her and grip her chin in my grasp.
I waste no time in crashing my lips to hers, kissing her brutally. Showing her exactly how much I missed her, how much I want her.
My tongue finds hers, and she pulls on the lapels of my jacket as I think about what I could do to her while she sits on this chair and pretends to work.
This has to be about our connection, though. I know we’re compatible in the bedroom, but I want to find what makes her tick.
Maybe I am old fashioned in a roundabout way.
With her, I want to do things right.
She’s panting when she comes up for air. “You expect me to not jump your bones after that?” she says, holding my face in her hands.
I grin. “This is a marathon, sweet girl, not a sprint.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” I prompt.
She runs her hands through my beard, and I try not to shudder at her touch. Every slight touch from her sets me on fire.
“When I can stop imagining you with tall, beautiful models…”
I cup her face. “Everyone has a past, Ariana. And if we’re going to give us a go, then you need to understand there will be backlash. Your family, for example, and mine, including James, then there’s the tabloids.”
“Not if we keep it on the downlow to begin with,” she says. “I mean, we don’t have to announce it at the Met Ball or anything.”
I grip her chin and kiss her chastely. “I do make a mean carbonara.”
“A man who cooks? I’m surprised. I thought you’d have a personal chef to do all of that,” she muses.
“I do, but it isn’t beyond me to make a meal every now and then.”
“You’re an incredibly decent man, Mr. Bentley,” she says, the color rising in her cheeks.
“Are you sure about that?” I mutter in her ear. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”
