His skin burned for her. She sat back, leaving his body wanting far more. He patted her thigh. “Afterthe Dover building. I want you to see it.”
She gazed at him, clearly confused, but she’d worked on this project for six months and it had become one of his favorite views in Miami. Galen hoped she appreciated the beauty. He drove them the short distance to the future high-rise for billionaires and parked in the dirt, by the elevator. She let herself out without waiting for him and gazed up the side of the half-built building.
He led her toward the elevator and pressed the button. “It’s awfully high and the walls aren’t finished.”
He held out his hand and waited for her to take it. She did, and he guided her forward. “Come.”
He closed the elevator door with a tug and locked it. She held onto the banister and squeezed her eyes. “Is this safe?”
Once he hit the button, he traced her face with his hands until her eyes opened, and she gazed up at him. “It’s safer than one inside a building. Just hold on to me when we open the door.”
“No problem.” She nodded, and he leaned down, wanting to taste her. His hands wrapped around her waist and when his lips met hers, he realized that she tasted sweeter than strawberries.
Every cell in his body was hard and needing her, now. Behind him the elevator dinged and he had to let her go.
She fixed her dress and briefly pressed her chest against his, then she let go and swept past him until the blast of wind slowed her down. The second they stepped off the elevator, she hugged her waist and stared at him with the heavy wind blowing her hair all around, like she was caught in a cyclone. He took her hand to steady her as she said, “You didn’t tell me about the hurricane force winds up here.”
“It’s not that bad. Look over here.” He walked her a short distance toward Biscayne Bay. Unlike the natural view from the National Park this high-rise showed the colorful skyline of Miami as it reflected against the dark waters.
She held his waist but said with awe, “The bay sparkles.”
Galen nodded, glad she saw the value, and hugged her closer. “We’ll get top dollar for this view.”
“I can see why.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek.
Tonight, he’d have her. If she was half as good as her kiss, he’d keep her in his bed until neither of them could move. She then said, “Let’s go back to your place, Galen.”
His heart put up a block. He held her close—did she not want him at her apartment? “Why mine?”
She pressed the elevator button but then quickly wrapped her arm back around him. “Do you have an ex that’s suddenly showing up at your door?”
Ah. He relaxed and kissed her forehead. He should have guessed. The elevator opened, and he led her inside, locking the door behind them. “Absolutely not. Let’s go.”
The elevator began its descent. He traced the line of her back beneath her green dress. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And Galen?”
“Yes.” His heart raced, and his hand ran up her thigh. She was his.
She pressed closer. “I trust you.”
Dang. Her words echoed, but he stopped the elevator in between levels and picked her up, wrapping her legs around him. He couldn’t wait. Her trust was like a shot that went straight to his heart. He claimed her lips again and kissed her.
Natalie Parker was everything he wanted.
Galen parked before a mansion that was bigger than any other house she’d ever been at, and Natalie felt a different, more ordinary tremble in her veins. She bit her lower lip unsure exactly how she’d ever fit into his world. The driveway itself had been paved using terra cotta circles with Spanish tiles in the center of each. The earth-colored house had Spanish arches at the front entrance and spanned for what seemed like a mile in each direction, with the occasional all-white balcony from the second floor that could be glimpsed from afar while palm trees and hibiscus bushes lined the green lawn.
She let herself out of the black SUV and studied Galen—he lived grander as a single man than anyone else she’d ever met, but then her middle class upbringing meant she didn’t mingle much with the billionaires of Florida. “How many bedrooms?”
He joined her and led her toward the fountain display and the main house. “It’s small, just ten, but there are twelve bathrooms.”
“Yeah, small is the word I’d use here,” she teased.
He walked her through the Spanish arches and unlocked his door with an electronic fob. “Come. I’ll give you the nickel tour.”
The living area had hand-carved ceiling tiles and a crystal chandelier; the center room had an even higher ceiling. Each side of the house had a set of marble stairs. White couches cornered a red Persian rug. Galen flipped the light on and her gaze went to the grand piano near the left staircase. She shook her head. “This house is worth far more than a nickel.”
He locked the door behind them, the click echoing in the foyer. She heard the buzz of his cell phone and waited for him to answer but it seemed he was ignoring it. She pressed her hand on his shoulder. “Your phone?”
“I’m turning it off.” He took it out of his back pocket and clicked the top, silencing the ringer.
