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She lifted her lashes and looked at him. ‘Show me your club,’ she said before good sense prevailed and spoiled her fun. What harm could prolonging the evening cause? Tipsy or not, she wouldn’t do anything foolish. Thinking about kissing Ramon was one thing—acting on the impulse quite another.
He held her gaze, the look in those toffee-coloured eyes dark and deliciously potent.
Warmth blossomed in her stomach. Knowing he would kiss her if she let him filled her with a heady sense of feminine power she’d never experienced before.
He pushed his empty espresso cup aside. ‘What would you like to see?’
‘Everything.’
His lips spread in a slow smile. ‘Then everything it is.’
Their tour of Saphir took almost a full hour. The club was enormous, far more extensive than Emily had imagined and utterly, unapologetically luxurious. They started with the recreation complex, where a full-service health spa and bathhouse operated twenty-four-seven alongside a yoga studio, squash courts, a huge swimming pool and a gymnasium. Despite the late hour, a handful of men and women were sweating it out on the state-of-the-art machines and the sight of their toned, sculpted physiques made Emily uncomfortably conscious of all the calorie-laden food she’d devoured at dinner.
Even more impressive than the recreation wing were the entertainment facilities. In addition to the restaurant where they’d dined, and two other eateries, the club boasted a champagne and caviar bar, a glamorous nightclub and the gorgeous Blue Lounge with its live jazz ensemble, sophisticated cocktail menu and cerulean silk-lined walls.
Emily tried to pay attention to what Ramon was telling her but she absorbed only half of what he said. She couldn’t concentrate. The champagne still fizzed in her bloodstream and the sexual awareness that had shimmered like a desert heat wave across the dinner table all evening seemed only to grow more intense. By the time they stepped into another lift to travel to yet another floor, Emily felt as if she were caught in the grip of a blistering fever—one that was burning up her mind as much as it was her body.
She couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t stop thinking that he really was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His bone structure was nothing short of magnificent, his face a perfect landscape of hard, contoured angles. And his mouth...
‘Emily.’
The warning in Ramon’s tone only vaguely registered. She felt giddy, drunk not on champagne but on the pheromones drenching her senses, and the speed of the lift shooting them skywards wasn’t helping. She stumbled forward, and she couldn’t honestly say if she’d done so by accident or on purpose. Ramon caught her, just as he had that day in her father’s office, but this time she was prepared for the impact of hard muscle, the swathe of masculine heat, that instantly engulfed her. Their gazes tangled for breathless seconds, and when the lift doors whispered open neither of them moved.
‘Are we getting out?’ Her voice was husky. Alien. Not at all her own.
The doors started to close and Ramon reached his hand out to halt them, his other hand remaining on her hip. ‘That’s your call.’
‘Why mine?’
‘Because this is the penthouse.’
She blinked. The feverishness in her blood made the act of thinking a challenge. Or maybe it was the intimate press of her curves against his hard body, the hot imprint of his hand on her hip, that scrambled her brain. ‘The penthouse?’
‘A private suite.’
His gaze probed and she needed only a second to interpret the question blazing in his eyes. Only a second longer for the curiosity she’d failed to stem to flare brighter, wilder, in her veins. If she waited one more second, sanity would intervene and she’d be saved. Saved from doing something foolish, reckless and totally out of character.
And then she’d go home to London and never know how it felt to be kissed by a man as beautiful as Ramon.
She didn’t wait. She rose up on tiptoes, the sweet lure of anticipation combined with a surge of heart-pounding adrenalin giving her the courage she needed to press her lips to his.
Her first impression was of warmth. Her second, of how firm and perfect his lips felt against hers. She pressed harder, heard a rough sound like a harsh, stifled exclamation climb his throat, and then his mouth opened over hers and suddenly they were kissing, really kissing and... Lord. It was everything she’d imagined and more. Passionate. Molten. Consuming.
One strong arm looped around her waist and suddenly her feet floated off the floor. Their mouths still fused, he walked them out of the lift. When her toes touched the floor again and his mouth slid off hers, a sound that was half-protest, half-plea fell from her parted lips. She opened her eyes and got a fleeting impression of plush surroundings and muted lighting before her gaze centred on Ramon. His other arm came around her, encircling her fully as he dragged her close, and she didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to escape despite the unfamiliarity of being held.
His gaze roved her face, settled on her mouth. ‘Do you know how long I’ve thought about doing that?’
She stared up at him. Her lips tingled, aching for the return of his. ‘Since Tuesday?’
He shook his head, one corner of his sexy mouth lifting. ‘The first time we met.’ He tugged her closer and coils of heat kindled in her belly. ‘You were so cool. So superior.’ He lifted a hand and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. ‘I wanted to kiss the prim, haughty smile you gave me right off your beautiful face.’
Somehow, through the thick haze of desire shrouding her senses, her mind summoned a sliver of indignation. ‘And I wanted to slap yours.’
He laughed, unabashed, and then as swiftly as it had arisen his amusement vanished and the dark, smouldering look that made her stomach swoop was back. He removed her clutch from her hand, her wrap from over her forearm, and dropped the items onto a sleek, red lounge chair. His jacket followed and then he returned to stand before her.
Heart racing, Emily pressed her palm to the centre of his chest. When she spoke her voice belonged to someone else. Someone she didn’t recognise. ‘What happens in Paris stays in Paris.’
Another of those slow, sensual smiles slanted his mouth. ‘As the lady wishes,’ he murmured, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He raised her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles then turned her palm up and bit the base of her thumb.
