If I Were You(Inside Out 01)(63)

My chin lifts. “But not stunning enough to f*ck right now.”
“More than enough to f*ck, just not yet.” He leans in, his lips by my ear, but he is careful not to touch me anywhere else. “Because when I do, you’ll be so hot and wet, you’ll be mine to do with what I want. And believe me baby — I want plenty.”
“You’re punishing me.”
He looks at me and his eyes soften as he brushes his knuckles over my shoulder. Goosebumps lift all over my skin. “Does that feel like punishment?”
More like pure bliss. “No.”
“Then you have your answer.”

***

We step into the hallway and Chris takes my hand, his eyes meeting mine, and I know he can see the sweet relief washing over me at his touch. His green eyes dance with amber heat and he leads me down the hallway, all masculine sensuality and raw power. I am insanely into this man. He pushes every button I own, in all the right ways. Every second I am with him, I feel more alive.
Another couple waits by the elevator, and we step inside behind them. Chris leans against the wall and pulls my back against his front. I soften against all his hardness, and his fingers curl around my waist, where they begin a slow caress. My nipples pucker against the thin material and I become ultra-aware of how naked I am underneath the dress.
The man across from me glances down, stroking my chest with a stare that makes me want to smack him for the woman he is with. I turn in Chris’s arms, giving the man my back. “Where are we headed?”
“In light of recent events, I thought food before wine seemed a good idea.”
“Yes. Please.”
The elevator dings and we let the other couple exit first. Chris takes my hand and I hit the elevator button to hold the door. “I need to go upstairs.” I glance down at my dress, my nipples puckering too obviously.
His lips quirk. “I already planned to have the hotel bring you a shawl and a coat to match the dress in case the evening gets chilly.”
Relief washes over me. “Thank you.”
“You just let me take care of everything tonight.”  He pulls me under his arm and I let go of the elevator button as we step into the lobby. Let Chris take care of everything. It is a thrilling, dangerous idea, I cannot help but crave.



Chapter Twenty-Three

Description: butterfly

We are escorted to a circular private dining room. Chris holds the chair for me as I settle next to an oval window overlooking green mountains and a glorious blue skyline. I slide my purse onto the chair and I am in awe of the view. “It’s spectacular.”
Chris claims the window seat across from me and slips out of his leather jacket he’d put on as we’d left the room. “So is the food, but since I’m taking you to a special winery that will serve their vintages along with fruit and cheese, I suggest we eat fairly light. I thought we’d visit the restaurant for brunch tomorrow before we leave, if you’d like?”
“Yes. Very much. Sounds perfect.” I am warmed by the romance of this place and his actions, but I tell myself not to get carried away. This isn’t romance. It’s a sexy adventure. After all, I’m not wearing panties or a bra.
“Anything look good?” Chris asks after I’ve studied the menu a moment.
“Everything. I’m starving.” It’s nearly three and we haven’t eaten since early morning.
A waiter appears and Chris arches a brow at me. “Ready?”
“I am. Cobb salad for me.”
Chris hands both of our menus to the waiter. “Burger for me. Well done. And bring us a bottle of the recommended wine selection — the Robert Craig Zinfandel.”
The waiter gives a small bow. “Coming right up, Mr. Merit.”
“No beer for you?” I ask when the waiter departs.
“It’s never good to mix alcohol and I have a few friends around these corners of the world, that would have my hide for drinking beer over wine.”
It hits me how well Chris is known here, how the waiter and the doorman knew him by name. A sick feeling hits me. I never bring women to my home. Is this where he brings them? Where he wines and dines them into panty-less submission. “How often do you come here?”
“A couple times a year.” He gives me a shrewd, narrow look, and I’m pretty certain he’s reading me like a book. I hate that I am transparent, that I have knots in my gut, and that I am reacting this way at all. I worry I’m getting emotionally attached to Chris and I don’t want to be hurt.
Chris slides a brochure of some sort from the edge of the table in front of me. “This is why I visit.”
I blink down at what appears to be an advertisement for the art gallery on site and swallow hard at the list of featured artists, including Chris. I’ve jumped to conclusions and made it obvious.
“And to be clear, Sara, until now, I’ve never brought a woman here.”
My gaze jerks to his. “Never?”
“Never.”
“Then why am I here?”
“You tell me. Why did you come?”
“Because you asked me.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of men who’ve hungered to give you an escape, even take care of you, whom you’ve rejected.”
It’s true. I’ve barely dated since college and the few dates I’ve had were disasters. “And I’m sure there are plenty of women who’ve hungered for more with you.”
He studies me a long moment. “Why five years, Sara?”
The unexpected probe sets my pulse to racing. “I thought you didn’t ask personal questions?”