Any Time, Any Place (Billionaire Builders #2)(51)
The way he expressed himself contained a hint of poetry. Maybe Cal was right. Dalton might be more of a closet romantic than she’d ever believed. Thing was, a bullshit artist was easy to dismiss, but his words rang with truth. And that was impossible to fight.
She shifted her weight. Her voice came out ragged. “Thanks.”
“How do you decide to create a new drink? Is there a process?”
Leaning her hip against the bar, she thought about his question. “I always had a great palate, but I was at this dingy pub and the guy behind the bar was like the mixologist god. He was putting all these new spins on classic drinks, and they were taken to a new level. I was intrigued, so I began studying mixology. It’s basically the science of combining different flavors to create a unique cocktail. I studied a ton of books, worked the bar with some interesting people, and practiced consistently. I figured out what tastes good together, and loved the art of surprising someone. I love the look on someone’s face when they notice an unusual flavor that works perfectly.”
“I’ve never heard you call yourself a mixologist. You always use the term bartender.”
She shrugged. “I don’t need a fancy word to impress people. Bartender; mixologist; you still serve drinks to the public and hope they like them.”
“Yet you take it to the next level.” He cocked his head, studying her thoughtfully. Once again, his gaze delved deep, patiently searching for something. “You take everything to the next level.”
The surge of energy strengthened, rose up, and threatened to suck them both under. Her fingers clenched. “Not everything.” She struggled with her next words. “I’m sorry I never thanked you for the flowers.”
“Didn’t need thanks. That’s why I decided not to leave a card.”
She tilted her head. “Why? Didn’t you want the credit? Another of your seduction attempts?”
“Let me ask you a question, then. How did you know I sent them?”
She shivered. Because already she felt as if she knew a part of him. A part that spoke to her on a scale where words weren’t needed. “I just sensed it.”
“Exactly. You can hang up on me, refuse to talk at the bar, and avoid every single one of my advances, but there’s something between us, Raven. Something bigger than us. I can’t stop thinking about you. Fantasizing. You’re like a fever in my damn blood.”
“Sounds unhealthy.”
He laughed without humor. “Maybe. But I want to get one thing straight. Sending you those roses had nothing to do with trying to get you in my bed. That was about admiring the woman you are and wanting to give you a little bit of pleasure. Because when you smile, you pretty much wreck me.”
Oh, God. No. He couldn’t say such things to her. Things that ripped into her heart and made her want him so badly she shook with pure need. His nostrils flared as if catching her scent. He growled low in his throat and stepped closer. “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you again unless you asked me.”
She locked her thighs together, praying she looked like she was in control. “Good plan.”
“But I want to touch you. Real bad.” He took another step. His body heat licked at her, teasing. His masculine scent danced in her nostrils. “I keep imagining you naked. I’m obsessed with knowing how you taste. I fantasize about stripping off your clothes, parting your thighs, and licking you till you come. I can almost hear the sound of your screams and feel the bite of your nails.”
A rush of wetness dampened her panties. Her heart slammed against her ribs. “D-doesn’t sound very friendly.”
His eyes glittered with a fierce hunger. “No, it doesn’t. But I made you a damn promise, and even though we’re not working together anymore, I don’t want to push when I’m not wanted. Am I?”
Her voice pitched to a high half shriek. “Are you what?”
“Wanted.”
The silence roared with unspoken possibilities and dark cravings. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a yo-yo, back and forth, giving him enough mixed signals to confuse both of them. The truth of their shared past haunted her, but her body didn’t care, slamming through the obstacle in a mad dash for another touch, another taste.
“I want you.” The stark words fell between them. “But it doesn’t matter. It won’t work. We want different things.”
“We want each other. We want to figure out what this thing is between us that’s haunting me day and night. You’re in every breath I take, Raven. It’s driving me mad.”
“I’m trying to be smart,” she said desperately. “I don’t need this complication now. You’re not good for me.”
“Do you seriously think you’ll be able to give your heart to some perfect husband figure when your body is weeping for mine? Is that fair to anybody?”
Did he move closer, or was it her imagination? The perfect curves of his lips were inches away. She ached to slide her hands inside his crisp white shirt and stroke the sleek muscles beneath. Grab on to his rock-hard shoulders. Press her mouth to his and give her own demands.
“Let’s slake the thirst we have for each other. Give each other pleasure. Maybe it’ll take away this driving need I have for you and convince us both we’re bad together.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Oh, God, that’s such a line. Do you know how many movies and books use that excuse? It usually gets worse. More intense.”