“No.”
It was new?
“Don’t worry, it’s on loan from a jeweler.”
Don’t worry? Like it was an everyday occurrence to hand over a solitaire the size of a stuffed olive to a total stranger?
“Oh,” she mused. “Like in Pretty Woman?”
He looked confused. Didn’t the man do romcoms?
“The movie. When Richard Gere borrows jewels for Julia Roberts to wear to the opera,” she explained.
“Oh,” he shrugged. “Okay.”
“I’m not a hooker.” She dragged her eyes from the diamond to glare up at him.
“I know.” His laughter warmed, taking the edge off her completely. “But you’ve worn one before.”
“No I haven’t,” she admitted ruefully. “Corey didn’t give me an engagement ring. We were traveling and he said it wouldn’t be safe. He didn’t even get a cheap pretend one.”
There’d been no rock for her real engagement, and now her fake nonengagement had an eye-wateringly valuable stone to go with it. She might work in a bling store, but she knew genuine when she saw it. “This is crazy.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “But fun, no?”
“No.” She fought to remain sensible. “You can’t spring this on your aunt. What if she wants to celebrate?”
“Then we’ll have champagne.”
Nina tried not to laugh. “What are you going to say to your family when it’s over between us and I’m off overseas?”
“That I’m heartbroken and sworn off women for life.”
Now that was interesting. It came so quick off his tongue, maybe it was the truth already. She gazed first at him—and then at the ring. She should be sensible, right? Like always.
But what woman wouldn’t want to at least try such a ring on? And if you were going to act a part, you might as well go all “method,” right?
“I can’t wear this on my left hand,” she said. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
It really was dazzling—she couldn’t take her eyes from it. Though that was more because he’d taken hold of her hand and his thumb was gently stroking the fleshy part of her palm and she didn’t want to look into his eyes because then he’d see exactly how his small touch affected her. Who knew lust could be so instant—and so insane. And so heavenly.
“No problem.” She could hear his smile in his answer. “In Spain, many women wear engagement rings on their right hand.”
“Oh.”
“Many men wear engagement rings, too.”
“Oh? But I don’t have anything—” She felt the pang—and then processed it. Incredulous, she mocked herself—how could she feel guilty for not having a ring for him? For even a second? The man clearly had mind control powers.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Laughing, he held her hand more firmly. “Let’s see if it fits.”
Her heart thundered as he deftly took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. It fitted. Of course it did—he had that kind of luck.
She held out her hand and stared at the simple perfection. “I don’t think I can—”
“You don’t like it?” he asked.
“Of course I like it,” she understated. “But isn’t it wrong?”
He lifted her chin so she had to look away from the stunning ring—only to be more stunned by his beauty and his intensely focused eyes. “You’re an honest person.”
She nodded. “I’ve never been able to lie.”
“This is not a lie,” he quietly assured. “Tonight you are my fiancée. I choose you, you choose me. It is simple.”
She smiled weakly. The churning mess of laughter and fun and anticipation inside was so not simple.
“It is very simple,” he reiterated, completely serious. “No one can say otherwise. Tonight you’re mine and I’m yours. In that sense there is no lie. It doesn’t feel wrong to me.”
No. Being here with him, this close to him? It felt very, very right. So for tonight he was hers? She wished. She really wished.
Her last objections fell away. Sensibility fell away. He was so close—he’d been the one to tilt her face to his. But she was the one who did it. She was the one who stood up on tiptoe and lifted her chin that bit higher so their lips touched.
She was his from first contact and from that moment he took control. His hands instantly framed her face, holding her still as his tongue teased her mouth open, quickly deepening the kiss. And she let him—unable to resist, the pleasure he gave was already too great. His thumbs softly caressed her earlobes. She shivered, softening against him. He moved—tucking her into a closer embrace, smoothing a firm hand down the length of her, pushing her tight into his heat as his mouth moved more demandingly against her own. She’d gotten a taste of his lean strength in the train this morning, and yes, as she’d feared, he scalded every cell that came in contact with him. And he did it again now.
But she liked the fire. Adored it. Was happy to melt and let him consume her completely. She wanted to be drawn right into the flames—wanted to feel like she could fly free in a way she’d never done before. She’d never felt anything like this from a simple kiss.
Though it wasn’t a simple kiss anymore. His hands shaped her curves, stroking her body—rousing it so the desire to move closer ruled her. Lost in that swift-rising sensual steam, she explored, running her fingertips down his back, tasting him with her tongue, pressing her aching nipples against his hard chest.
Their lips met, clung, sucked—until he pulled back to tease her with a series of soft kisses over her jaw and neck until she moaned, tormented and hungry. Eyes closed, she sought full knowledge of his body with her own. She’d no idea where she was anymore, or who might be around. She no longer cared. All that mattered was that he continue. That this heat be given full rein. She ached for fullness and completion. She didn’t want him to stop—never to stop.
He returned to her mouth, going deeper again. Possessing with strong, rough strokes. Involuntarily her hips jerked—rocking against him. She wanted his intimate lick. His steely muscles were hot, as was the hard ridge pressing against her tummy. It had been so fast, so easy to get to this.
To yes. To sighs of need, to trembling, tight muscles, to dampening, heated secret places. She wanted his mouth to move again, she wanted him to push her dress aside and taste her skin all over. She wanted to be naked with him.
Now.
Just as she thought it, he stilled completely, going like granite before gently pushing her away from him.
“We’d better get to dinner.” Husky, his accent sounded thicker. The pale blue in his eyes was almost obliterated by swollen, dark pupils.
“Oh…right.” She brushed her hair behind her ears and took a pace away, basically gasping for breath as he hailed a taxi.
Nina glanced at him—he was back in statue mode. It seemed he didn’t need an emergency oxygen tank like she did. She closed her eyes, mortified as she realized he hadn’t been anywhere near as moved as she had.
She’d just made such a fool of herself. She’d kissed him. She’d basically leapt on him—and she couldn’t even use the boyfriend pretense as her excuse. Not when any of the people she’d once intended to impress weren’t within eyeshot.
No one had seen.
And now all he wanted to do was get to dinner. Didn’t he want to skip it and go straight to his apartment to get it all on? Yeah, they definitely had different reactions to that kiss. She was ready to tear her clothes off—but his reaction? Who knew what he was thinking?
And there she was the one who’d said she wasn’t a hooker. But hadn’t she just “rewarded” him for the rock temporarily on her finger?
No. She pulled back from beating herself up too much. Because that hadn’t been about rewarding him at all—but herself. She’d wanted to kiss him. Fact was, she’d wanted to get her hands on him for hours. Yeah, her sex drive had roared back into town and was revving like a V8 race car ready for the horn.
But it seemed her sexual performance wasn
’t anywhere near competition level. Just like Corey had said.
She turned to face him—about to pull out of the rest of the evening—when a taxi swerved alongside them. Eduardo opened the door and held it for her. Nina smoothed her dress—and her nerves. Damn it, she might as well enjoy a fancy dinner. He took the other corner of the cab—as far from her as possible.
Every doubt soared higher than before. And there were more of them. Because he was so deliberately ensuring there was no physical contact between them. He wasn’t talking, either. He just instructed the driver on their destination and sat back, back to being a lifelike sculpture.
Anger trickled, then flowed—unstoppable. All the anger that had been brewing inside her for so long. Surely she hadn’t imagined his response. He’d clutched her closer, he’d French-kissed the brains out of her. He’d teased with his hands and fingers. Hell, she hadn’t imagined the size of his hard-on. He’d been as into it as she was. And she’d been more into it than she’d ever been in her life. So he couldn’t act either the outraged virgin or the uninterested male. What was with the silent treatment?