Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(81)
His brows lifted. “You’re not?”
“Nope.”
“No? Why?”
“Because I don’t get paid to find men for myself.” Not to mention, I’d learned the hard way that men who pay to be members of Premier like a different kind of woman. A woman who was educated, came from a rich family, and wore a size zero. “I need to get paid. Because my bills need to be paid.”
“I understand that, but don’t you ever feel lonely?” he asked as he meandered down the beach.
Falling into step beside him, I said, “I do. Sometimes. I go out with my friend Sasha. I meet new people. Like you.”
“And you immediately tried to enroll me in Premier’s dating service.”
“Yes. You’re an ideal candidate.”
He turned so suddenly I bumped into him. We were chest to chest--kind of. Without my shoes, he had a good six or seven inches on me so my nipples were more in his upper abdomen region. Still, we were close. Too close. Close enough to…to kiss.
I swallowed hard.
I needed to step back, to put some space between us.
Step away.
Back.
Now.
Why the heck couldn’t I move?
He grabbed my arms as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and he didn’t want me to go. “Am I an ideal candidate for Premier? Or do you really want me for yourself? Are afraid to admit it? Please tell me.”
Something big and hard coagulated in my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to push it down so I could speak. But it didn’t budge. I opened my mouth and tried to force the words past the lump, but nothing came out.
He tipped his head to the side, and his edge of his tongue swiped across his lower lip. His gaze locked to mine, and a feeling of panic raced through me.
He was going to kiss me again.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes just as his lips met mine. Instantly, at least a thousand volts of electricity coursed through my body. Waves of heat pulsed through me as cool waves of water lapped at my ankles.
The kiss was soft. It was a quiet seduction, making me crave more. When I felt his tongue trace the seam of my mouth, I parted my lips and it dipped in.
Oh God.
He tasted so good.
Man. Wine. Sweet. Spicy.
His tongue caressed mine, and a little groan vibrated in my chest. In my head, words echoed, like, I need to stop this…must stop…now! My hands, having a mind of their own, and not listening to what my head was saying, started wandering up the front of his torso. My fingertips dipped into ridges cutting between bands of thick muscles. Pecks. Abs. Shoulders. Oh, I could tell they were utterly perfect.
As the kiss continued, it became more aggressive. His tongue didn’t gently caress mine anymore, it staked a claim. His hands skimmed up my arms, over my shoulders and cupped my neck. His fingers kneaded my muscles there, working out the tension as more, a different kind, wound through the rest of my body.
Still, as my blood burned hotter and my muscles tensed, I kept telling myself I needed to stop. I needed to make it clear I wasn’t going to let him play these games anymore.
Somehow finding the strength to resist, I pushed against his chest with both hands. Our mouths parted. But he didn’t step back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He didn’t look confused or upset. In fact, he looked…amused.
“Why are you playing me?” I snapped as I struggled to understand what the hell was going on.
“I’m not playing you.”
“Then why do you look so smug?” I poked his chest. It was too freaking hard.
His eyes widened, but that crooked smile remained in place. “I look smug?”
“Yes.”
“No. Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I’m not playing you. I swear. I…” He visibly swallowed. And in that instant, I caught a look of vulnerability that made me doubt what I’d thought mere seconds before. “I enjoyed that kiss. I thought you were enjoying it too.”
I couldn’t tell him I had. Even though I did. I stared straight ahead, at the sparkling water. For some reason, I licked my lower lip. It still tasted like him. A little aftershock swept through me. I did a one-eighty and started back to the house. “I agreed to go on a date with you, but I never said I’d sleep with you.”
“I’m not expecting you to do that,” he said, falling into step beside me.
“I just thought I should make it clear.”
He grabbed my arm, halting. “Did I give you that impression? That I’d brought you out here to get a piece of ass?” he said, his voice low and full of emotion.
Now I felt crappy for admitting I thought he was a playboy. But what else was I supposed to think? He’d flown me out here, to a private house, instead of taking me out to a restaurant. I wasn’t the kind of girl the Tevin Pages of the world married. I was the kind they fucked. Bringing me here sure made that convenient. “Well, no. Okay, maybe.”