Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Giving myself a silent pep talk, I step onto the marble floor, and his head turns in my direction like he senses me. I don’t know how old he is, but if I had to guess, I would say he’s probably late into his thirties, making him ten years older than I am, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what makes him seem so much more intense, so sure of himself.
Probably.
As he walks toward me, his gaze roams up my body like he’s memorizing every detail, and the moment his eyes meet mine, my next breath gets caught in the back of my throat. I’ve never had a man look at me with such blatant desire, and if one look can make me feel like I’m going to come out of my skin, I wonder what will happen if or when we give in to the temptation we both so obviously feel.
“You look fucking stunning.” He bends down, brushing his lips across the corner of my mouth, then leans back just enough to catch my eye. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and he takes my hand and turns us toward the door. When we step outside, he leads me toward a black car and opens the back door for me, waiting until I’m seated before he shuts it and disappears.
My heart is thundering in my chest, and my stomach is fluttering like a swarm of honeybees has taken over my insides. I will myself to calm down and remind myself that we are having dinner with his friends, so if anything is going to happen, it won’t be right now. This is just dinner.
He gets in on the opposite side, telling the driver in Spanish that we’re ready to go, and rests his large hand on my bare knee, where the material of my skirt has fallen open.
“You speak Spanish?” I ask, trying to ignore his thumb that has started making tiny circles that send sparks up my inner thigh to the space between my legs.
“Enough to get by.”
“Any other languages?”
“A little German and French. You?”
“French, and a tiny bit of Spanish, but only enough that I don’t seem like a jerk when I’m here, asking for things like the bathroom or how much something costs.” I look out the window as we pull up to the hotel, and although where I’m staying is very nice, this place is stunning, with floral art that crawls up the outer walls and beautiful greenery that lines the red-carpeted path to the entrance.
“Wait here and I’ll come around,” he orders, giving my knee a squeeze before getting out, and a moment later, he opens my door and holds out his hand for me.
I take it, sending the driver a quiet thank-you, then carefully maneuver out of the car, trying to avoid flashing anyone, which is a feat with the skirt’s slit.
“We can wait in the bar for the guys if you’d like?”
“That sounds good.” I tuck my bag under my arm and walk hand-in-hand with him into the hotel that is just as beautiful inside and buzzing with energy that vibrates across my skin. The bar is packed when we reach it, so it takes us a minute to wade through the people standing around with drinks as they talk over the music being played at club level. Not a surprise, Ibiza is known for its party lifestyle.
“What would you like?” he asks, placing his lips almost against my ear, causing me to shiver.
“Just sparkling water with lime.”
“That’s all?”
“For now.”
“All right.” He keeps his hand on my back as he leans across the high counter toward the bartender and places our order while I look around. The atmosphere is so different than where I’m staying that it’s almost overwhelming my senses. I hardly go out and can’t even remember the last time I went out clubbing, so it’s a lot to take in.
Out the corner of my eye, I notice a group of women all looking in our direction, and when I glance over, I see a gorgeous woman with a barely there, bodyhugging white dress smiling at Walker like she knows him. I might not have gotten the rules for a vacation fling from April, but I do know I have no right to feel any kind of way about him being with anyone else before or after me. Still, it’s difficult to ignore the ugly tentacles of jealousy that curl around my insides at the thought of him with her last night.
“Babe,” he calls softly, and I turn to find him holding out a glass.
“Thank you.” I take it, then watch him grab a bottle of water that’s placed on the bar.
“You’re not drinking?” I shout over the music.
“I don’t drink often. Deep sea diving puts a lot of stress on the body, and alcohol just intensifies that.” He smooths his hand across the skin of my back between my skirt and top. “There’s some seating outside where it’s quiet and less crowded, or do you want to wait in here?”