“Yes, we would love to have dinner with you. Thank you,” I say calmly even though my insides are going nuts.
“I’m staying at Whittlebury Hall,” Leandro tells me. “Astons Restaurant there is really nice. We could have dinner there, or I could take you somewhere else?”
“We’re staying at Whittlebury, too, so Astons will be perfect,” I say.
We were lucky to get a room at Whittlebury Hall that close to the Prix, but we managed to get a cancellation. Seems luck was on my side with Leandro staying there, too. A thrill passes through me at the knowledge.
“Great. So, I will reserve us a table. Say seven thirty?”
“Seven thirty is perfect.”
“Should I pick you up from your room or—”
“We’ll meet you at the restaurant.” I smile.
“Okay. So, I will see you both tonight then.” He glances at Jett and then me. “I should get back to the garage.” He thumbs over his shoulder. Then, he seems to realize something. His eyes move to look past me, and he gestures to the now empty hall behind me. “You have lost your group. Do you know where you are going from here?”
Biting my lip, I shake my head.
“No worries. I will get you both back to them.”
He smiles at me, and my insides turn to girlie goo. And I can’t help my feeling of sheer excitement at the prospect of dinner tonight.
OKAY…BE COOL. It is just dinner.
And Jett will be with us, so it is not like I can put the moves on India and fuck this up.
Nothing too soon with India. I need to take my time.
I know she wants me still. I could see it in her eyes. In the way that her body reacts naturally to me. Like she is tethered to me, her body naturally gravitates my way.
But she is gun-shy. I just need to show her that we are right together.
And I will do that with a little push and pull.
The elevator is waiting on my floor, so I go straight in and press the button for the lobby.
I smooth a hand down my shirt. I’m nervous as fuck. Sweating like a little bitch.
The elevator stops on the next floor down. The door slides opens, and there stands India.
My body responds in the only way it can when the most beautiful woman in the world is standing before me in come-fuck-me heels and red lips. Her dress is black and hits a few inches above the knees, showing those golden long legs of hers. Her hair is down and tousled around her shoulders, looking exactly as I imagine it would when spread out on my pillow.
Jesus. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me with those red heels and lips like fire to match.
She looks fucking stunning.
And I haven’t breathed, and I have also spent an inordinate amount of time staring at her.
Good start.
“Leandro…hi.” She presses those bee-stung lips of hers together, and my cock twitches in my pants.
“Hi,” I say, like the lame fuck I am, trying to distract myself from my impending boner.
But she is kind of looking nervous herself. She is fidgeting, and she is still standing outside the elevator.
Be cool, Silva. You got this.
“Were you getting in the elevator?” I ask, my voice sounds hoarse.
She glances down the hall, like she is considering making an escape.
“I was, but, well, Jett’s running late. He’s still in the shower, and I didn’t want you to be waiting for us down there, so I was coming first, and Jett was going to follow down, but as you’re here, I guess…I don’t know.” She lets out a little laugh and runs her hand through her hair.
She’s definitely nervous from being alone with me. It gives me a rise.
“Why don’t we go down together and wait in the bar for Jett?”
She glances down the hall again and then looks back to me. “Okay.”
She smiles at me, and the way it makes me feel…it is like her smile was made solely for me. And if I weren’t already sure that I was in love with her, then I would know it in this moment.
I place a hand against the door to stop it from closing, and she slides in past me.
The scent of her perfume, a heady mix of citrus and floral, fills my senses. It serves as a memory of being inside her. It is like pure fucking torture. Having her here yet still so far away.
The door slides closed, and the lift starts its slow descent.
“India—”
“So—”
Our eyes connect, and we both laugh.
“You first,” I say.
“No, you.” A smile tugs on her lips.
I keep my eyes on her as I say, “I was just going to say that you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” A blush rises on her cheeks.
I just can’t fucking help myself. I reach out and touch her face with my fingertips.
The way I feel about her…it is not like anything I have ever known. It is all consuming—the unrelenting need to be with her, make her mine, brand myself into her skin because she sure as hell is branded into mine.