Page 24 of Captivated By You
By tomorrow, I should be on a plane back to New York, back at Karen’s assistant desk, and this whole ridiculous idea would be over.
Or you could stay and let that delicious man take you places you’ve only dreamed of.
“Or I could be an idiot and talk to myself,” I muttered to the water.
I wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted someone to relieve me of my V-status, but did I want it with a man who’d been with an untold number of women?
No.
Yes.
I could lie to myself but my body was showing how much it disagreed.
As I’d watched him, my physical response had been as obvious as what he was doing. My core had throbbed, clenched with excitement. My skin flushed. I could blame the embarrassment on the hot sensation singeing my blood.
Embarrassment and shame didn’t explain why my nipples were still hard. Still tingling.
Darn it.
Heaving another breath, I turned, intent on heading back to his house, to the difficult conversation awaiting me, and stopped short.
He was there.
Sitting on the bottom wood step that led to his patio and his beautiful house, the perfect mixture of beauty and Caribbean. A little bit Spanish-styled, a whole lot of perfect. I’d miss it.
I told myself I wouldn’t miss the man sitting on his ass, legs spread wide and bent. Feet buried in the hot sand and his forearms on his knees, hands dangling between them.
His gaze on me, even though his eyes were hidden beneath mirrored sunglasses, he had his head turned in my direction, watching me take slow, painful steps back toward him.
Good grief. What was I supposed to say to him? I like your shower? Great view?
If I was sassier, raised in a way that allowed me to speak my mind and not hide everything behind the perfect facade, I probably could.
“You hungry? I have prawns marinating and the rest of dinner prepared.”
He cooked. And heaven help me, but the idea of seeing him in a kitchen or working a grill was sexy.
I eyed him suspiciously.
“You’re not going to give me a hard time?”
A smirk twisted his lips and he rubbed his hands together. Oh God, the entendre.
“Do you want me to give you a hard time?”
I flushed from my roots to my toes. Shaking his head, his mop of thick black hair swished back and forth.
“No.”
“I think I’ll give you a pass. You look either ready to flee or puke.”
“I’m not going to puke.”
Two brows rose above his frames. “But you are going to flee?”
It was now or never. Before whatever this was went any further, he had the right to know. “Why don’t we continue this inside?”
I stayed still under his silent inspection. I couldn’t see his eyes. But feel them? They touched every part of my exposed skin and some hidden ones.
