“Whatever you say,capo,” Vince added under his breath.
But I didn’t respond. Because as much as I hated to admit it, the bastard had gotten under my skin.
I knew better.
Carmen wasn’t a placeholder. She wasn’t a warm body I kept in the back of my mind out of loneliness. She was the endgame. She was it for me. She always had been.
I remembered the way she looked at me back at the hotel and it damn near killed me.
The longer I sat here pretending I gave a shit about HVAC routes and site logistics, the clearer it became:
I had no business being here.
Because in a few hours—or maybe less—she’d be in my arms again.
?????
When I pulled up to the hotel entrance, she was already standing outside, framed by the warm gold glow of the lobby lights spilling through the glass doors behind her. And for a second—no, longer than that—I forgot how to fucking breathe.
She hadn’t seen me yet. She was looking off to the side, phone in one hand, the other resting casually against her hip.
The red dress she wore was painted onto her body like it had been melted over every curve. The fabric caught every bit of ambient light, shifting between crimson and blood-wine with every step she took. It dipped dangerously low at the front, revealing the soft rise of her breasts.
The slit on the side climbed up her thigh, and each movement made it part just enough to catch a glimpse of the smooth, dark skin underneath.
And her hair—God, her hair.
Those golden curls tumbled down over her shoulders in soft, lazy waves that looked like they’d been made to be wrapped around my fingers.
My throat dried instantly.
My jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
She spotted me, and her full lips pulled into a slow, knowing grin as she slid her phone into her clutch.
“You like?” she teased, already twirling before I could answer.
The dress flared out for a second, hugging her tighter when it settled. I knew she’d done it for effect, and Jesus Christ, it worked. I opened the car door before I could think better of it, moving on instinct, still half-dumbstruck by the sheer fact that she was mine.
Mine.
My voice came out rougher than I intended, low and gritty like gravel stuck in my throat. “You’re lucky I already made the reservations.”
She laughed—a soft, flirty sound that hit me square in the chest. Then she stepped closer, hips swaying as she slid into the passenger seat. I quickly rounded the car and got in.
Her bare thigh brushed against my hand as she adjusted her dress, and I went completely still. I had to grip the steering wheel, holding on with both hands while my body screamed to turn and grab her instead. Just pull her across the console. Press her against me. Kiss her until we were breathless and tangled up in that ridiculous dress.
I didn’t.
But it took every shred of control I had left not to.
Instead, I shifted the car into drive, eyes fixed on the road ahead while the heat of her stayed branded against my skin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smirk and cross her legs slowly.
I didn’t say anything.
But I didn’t stop staring either.
