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With her smile more beguiling than before, my control mechanisms seemed to be dropping quickly into the toilet.
“Friends or not, I am a powerful man. You said so yourself.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“What risks are we talking about? Skydiving? Mountain climbing? Racecar driving?”
This time as I leaned over, I could sense her breath catching. “How about a little drive by the ocean?”
I was rewarded with another laugh. “You’re on, Mr. Lone Ranger, as long as you don’t keep me out too late.”
“Deal.” I’d spent an entire afternoon with her and was fascinated by the fact I was the one who was craving taking a risk.
Hell, if my jet was fired up and ready, I’d consider whisking her away to one of the islands for the night. Then I could introduce her to some really naughty things.
After paying the bill, I watched her walking away with her head held high. I tossed a few twenties on the table for the tip as my mind resorted to several filthy thoughts. I tried not to slide myself into the creep category by staring at her rounded ass and long legs, but anyone who was observing my actions could likely tell what I was thinking.
Thankfully, the lights were low, the sky a sweltering black and if they weren’t looking directly into my eyes, they would have no idea I was undressing every inch of her luscious body with them.
Oh, I was a very bad man, my sinful thoughts likely landing me in hell.
But in my mind, the consequences would be worth the wild ride.
To say I was one lucky bastard was an understatement.
CHAPTER 9
Selena
A CAT scan.
It was obvious I needed to schedule one for the upcoming week. Since when had I ever texted a stranger and come close to sexting? To add insult to injury, I’d agreed to get into a strange car with a man I didn’t know, albeit a car worth well over a quarter of a million dollars.
Just like the man’s classic, high-dollar watch. My father wore a Breitling, although not one nearly as expensive. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been another trinket gift from his father.
Here I was being petty.
As he finally rolled the decadent piece of steel into an overlook parking lot perched high above the glorious Pacific Ocean, I had to admit I needed psychological help.
Why?
Because I wanted the man to reach over, grab my chin, yank me closer, and kiss the life out of me. My ultimate fantasy. Well, maybe not my last breath but somewhere in that neighborhood. The men I’d been with had been terrible kissers.
Including the professional boxer I’d tossed out on our fifth date. I hadn’t lied about refusing to accept the man’s abuse, only I’d used a metal skewer instead of my fist as an incentive to get the hell out of my life. He also hadn’t sobbed like a baby, threatening me instead.
Good times.
Yet it was an ugly memory that had served me well over the last few years, allowing me to keep my distance from arrogant men.
While the Lone Ranger was charming as all get out, he oozed of wealth, success, and complete egotism.
A dangerous combination.
Given the cool breeze, we sat quietly with the windows closed, studying the moon’s glow shimmering across the water’s surface. Was it much more uncomfortable than when we’d had drinks and chips in front of us? Hell, yes. We could both pretend to be nothing more than friends during our… Gah. What was I supposed to call the last three hours?
You couldn’t really call it a date. Or could you? I was certainly not an expert, voted most likely to end up a wallflower by my friends.
