“Then let’s go. We can get lunch on the way.”
He took her to a boutique close to the hotel and turned VJ over to a sales clerk. They disappeared into another section of the store and returned quickly, just as he’d settled into a plush chair to wait. The sales clerk had several garments draped over her arm so either VJ made up her mind really fast—and if so, he’d nominate her for woman of the year—or the clerk had selected them.
Eventually, VJ emerged from behind the divided panel, flustered and adorable, with nothing in her hands. “Are you sure about this?”
“Very sure. Pick out a dress. Pick two.” Kris scouted around for the clerk. “Miss? She needs shoes and everything else a woman requires for a night out. Everything. Also, can you write down the name of a good spa?”
A blush spread over VJ’s cheeks. “For what?”
“So you can spend the day being spoiled. Don’t even think about saying no.” He guided her in the direction of the clerk and crossed his arms so he couldn’t yank her to him and kiss her senseless.
His hands tightened into fists. Backing off was harder than he’d anticipated.
Playing chauffeur for the rest of the afternoon gave him plenty of downtime to make reservations and get directions. The spa took a couple of hours, so he squeezed in the casting videos, not at all annoyed to view them on the small screen of his phone instead of his laptop.
“Dinner’s at eight,” he told VJ when she slid into the Ferrari after the spa session. “Will that work?”
“Sure.” She put a hand over his on the gear shift. “Thanks. I’m having a great day. Four people worked on me at the same time, like I was royalty. The experience was truly wonderful.”
They’d put some kind of lotion on her hands, softening her skin.
“Yeah? I’m glad.” That creamy expanse of throat above the neckline of her T-shirt caught his attention. Now he was wondering if her skin was that same kind of soft all over and what it smelled like.
“I know you don’t expect anything in return. But I got you a little something anyway.” She smiled mischievously.
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise, for later. Your favorite color is red, right?” The pad of her finger slid up a tendon in his hand, following the corded line up his arm. His pulse tripped.
“How did you know?”
“I guessed. Wasn’t hard. Red’s the color of passion. Take me back to the hotel now?”
Take me echoed in his head, and the close atmosphere in the car stirred along his skin. Her eyes were luminous, and her fingers still played with his arm, feeling the crease at the bend of his elbow, swirling along his muscles. Then she lightly skimmed his shoulder and slid fingers into his hair, setting his nerve endings on fire.
He sucked in a hot breath and eased closer, into her space. “If you want to kiss me again, all you have to do is say so.”
The blue around her pupils swam with flecks of yellow and glinted when she licked her lips in a slow glide. “Same goes.”
Her thumb cruised along his jaw, then rested on his bottom lip with feather-light contact and the tip of her nail grazed it. The impact tightened the base of his spine and spread with tendrils of warmth.
“You have an amazing mouth, Kristian.” Her own mouth was slack, forming that O he longed to fill.
With an encouraging nibble of his lips, her thumb slid deep in his mouth. As he sucked on it, her eyelids fluttered closed and that awesome moan vibrated in her throat. His groin flooded, tight and hot.
That was it.
He plucked her thumb away and caught her mouth in a kiss. Her hands clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her tongue met his in a hot rush and they twined. He needed her, needed more, and reached for it.
His elbow hit the steering wheel. They were in the car. Kyla’s Ferrari, for God’s sake.
This was the exact opposite of backing off.
He started to break away and couldn’t. One more second against her mouth was all he needed. He slanted his lips at the opposite angle, tilted her head back and relentlessly drank from her.
More.
No. Not more.
He jerked away. He had more control than this. He had to find it. Problem was, he’d never needed to find it. It had never failed before.
“Italian for dinner?” he rasped, his vocal cords dry with need. He shifted into first and tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the ache in his gut.
“Sure,” she said with a small smile.
When they got back to the hotel, she sauntered to her room, hands full of bags, leaving him at loose ends. Aimlessly, he wandered to the couch and flipped on the TV, trying to will away the semi-hard-on he’d had since the car.