Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(61)

I wait for her in the lobby of the hotel. She doesn’t take long to arrive. She’s punctual, just like me. Hands in my pockets, I observe how everyone stares intently at her while she crosses the doorway. Rafaela looks as gorgeous as the first night I saw her. She’s wearing a knee-length black trench coat, open to reveal a skin-tight red dress underneath. It’s ruched on one side with an asymmetrical hem—long on the right side and short on the left. Her wavy blonde hair falls to her chest. She nods at me with a grin and walks in my direction with a natural hip swing.

“Mr. Van Dieren,” she greets, before giving me a cheek kiss. “You look great.”

“Not as great as you, I’m afraid.” She smiles at my compliment. “Shall we?” Rafaela links her arm with mine, and we head to the elevator that will take us to the thirty-fifth floor. Her eyes twinkle as she steps into the intimate restaurant with its sumptuous views of Manhattan.

“This view is insane!” She gasps in surprise while staring out the glass wall to Central Park and Upper East Side, which are all lit at night.

My face softens with a smile. I knew she’d like it. “Indeed, I like the view.”

“Mr. Van Dieren, so good to see you here,” greets the sommelier, shaking my hand.

“Good evening, Derek. It’s great to see you too. Can’t wait to be surprised and delighted by the wines you’ll pick for us tonight.”

“The wines?” asks Rafaela.

“I’m thinking of ordering the tasting menu with wine pairings. Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy. The chef will do something light and healthy, and the portions are small,” I reassure.

“Sounds like you know exactly what you want,” she replies in a cheeky tone. “For me that sounds perfect.”

“If I may, your table is over here.” Derek waves at a waiter who escorts us to a table with fuchsia booths located in a private corner beside the glass wall.





“What do you think of my choice?” I ask, seeing her face glow as she savors her glass of Saint Emilion. “Was it worth letting the chef and sommelier surprise us?”

She nods with a smile. “Very much so. It’s the first tasting menu I have had that is actually healthy and not heavy.”

“Actually, it’s not really on the menu. Although I think they should add it.” I take a sip from my glass. This wine is indeed fantastic. “So, what are your secrets to keeping yourself so young? Might you share some with me?”

She smiles deliciously at my question, wetting her lips, and move to sit beside me. I can see enough of her cleavage to notice her black lace bra. Then she leans closer to my ear. “Do you want me to show you?” she asks with a sensual tone. But of course. I smile and nod. She presses her lips against mine in a lingering kiss. And I’m very happy she does so. Finally, a kiss from someone else; after all, the last lips I’d kissed were— “Can’t wait to get to your apartment and show you the rest…” Rafaela whispers.

I grin, picturing the rest. “Let me help.” I call for the waiter and gesture for the check. Afterward, I kiss her again, this time feeling her tongue caressing mine longer.

Once the bill arrive, I want to cover it entirely, but when she insists we split, I say, “In Rio, I’ll be your guest. You can invite me wherever you want. But in New York, you are mine.” She smiles radiantly at my wordplay.

My iPhone beeps. The driver has just arrived.

I hold her hand, and we go out to the street. I open the rear door, and we get inside the black Rolls-Royce Phantom, which is waiting for us at the curb. She seems quite amazed to find it has an opaque glass wall that can be used either as a TV screen or to block off the front of the car. “I have never seen this before.”

“You mean the isolation wall?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

The car starts moving, and I strip off my jacket.

“Yes.”

I notice she has already removed her coat—the view of her deep cleavage makes it difficult to look elsewhere. “It’s actually soundproof—the people in front can’t hear or see us. And with this intercom, I can communicate with the driver.” She nods at me as I explain.

In a sudden move, Rafaela sits astride my lap, lifts her dress up, and starts devouring my mouth lustily. I grab her ass and squeeze it tight. “Then let’s enjoy it,” she murmurs between kisses.

This woman is fantastic. Her breath comes out short and loud. She hurriedly unbuttons half of my white shirt, kissing my neck through the open collar and fondling my chest.

I grab her waist and lie her down on the leather bench. I like to be on top. I continue to devour her, but a flashback of that nightmare runs instantly through my mind. I stop kissing her for a brief moment and swallow hard. I reach for her lips again, but my heart tightens, knowing it’s not hers I want. I feel so angry with myself. My body is not responding to her presence, her kisses, or her touch. I focus my mouth on her neck, but it’s neither her skin I want to suck, nor her perfume I want to inhale. Indeed, there is not a trace of jasmine... I look back into her eyes. They are brown.

The car stops.

I know we’ve just arrived at my condo. “I’m sorry, Rafaela. Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” How can I say I can’t bang her in the most elegant and gentle way possible? “I think we should take things slowly.” Perfect.