I accept it, our fingers colliding, a spark jolting me, wicked heat rocketing up my arm and over my chest. My God, my nipples are puckered, and my sex clenches. That’s how intensely this man affects me. His hand slides from mine, and I want to pull it back. I want him to touch me again. I want to touch him. I’m out of sorts, confused by my reaction to Eli, and yet, addicted to it all the same.
I sip the beverage, pleased to find a sweet champagne that might actually be a Spumante, bubbles tickling my tongue. And when I set my glass down, Eli is simply watching me, and doing so with such intensity that you’d think I was the last woman on planet earth.
“Sparkling wine is my favorite,” I say, filling the heavy space between us, and adding logic to the conversation I add, “But I assume Kelly told you that.” Kelly is the lounge attendant, who is absolutely wonderful. She remembers everything about everyone she meets.
“Kelly was busy,” he says. “But in an unexpected twist, you seem to compel your intense thoughts on me.”
I blanch at the unusual comment. “That’s not possible.”
“And yet, you have your glass of sparkling wine. And I also know you felt sorry for Jacob.”
“Not exactly sorry for him. I was just sensitive to how awkward he felt when you showed up. Honestly, I didn’t expect you. I didn’t remember a dinner date.”
“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”
“You didn’t invite me?”
“I’m inviting you now.” And when I might push back again, he tears down my walls by adding, “I want you to go to dinner with me.”
His admission somehow breaks through the protective shell I’ve started to form, a way to shelter myself from my intense reaction to Eli. And so I say, “I do. I want to go to dinner with you.” And somehow it feels as if a simple dinner invitation and acceptance is something bigger, something life-changing.
It’s a silly thought—or rather, feeling. It’s what I feel in this moment that cannot be denied as if it’s life-changing. And that feeling is as real as anything I’ve ever felt in my life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ivy
Eli stands and offers me his hand. “We should get to the restaurant.”
I study the hand he denied me last night but offers me now, aware that this very hand was on my body last night. Oh so aware. In my mind, I flashback to me against the hotel room wall, and him pressed close to me. Aware too that touching him will light me on fire, mute my ability to think beyond my feelings, which are indescribable where Eli is concerned, but quite intense. I am not someone that ever allows myself to be anything but in control in any situation possible. I know from my parents’ illnesses how it feels to spiral, to have no ability to manage anything around me.
Letting go, granting myself the freedom to do so, is not a luxury I allow myself, but sitting here now, I have to admit that a part of me craves release. And yet, another part fears it.
With these conflicted emotions, and with Eli’s large, strong hand extended toward me, I both crave and fear the lack of control this man stirs in me.
He must notice my hesitation as his brow arches, a challenge in his eyes. I reach for my glass, down the contents, and then press my palm to his palm. Heat burns in both our physical connection and the collision of our stares. He drags me to him, his hand on my waist, the touch intimate and wildly inappropriate—well, inappropriate if I were intending to resist him. Apparently, I’m not.
“Careful,” he warns. “You might overindulge.”
My hand flexes on the flex of his bicep where it’s landed. The snug tee he’s wearing exposes a tattoo of a cross that says something in another language. He’s a religious man. I like that about him. I like a lot of things about him and I’ve barely even spoken with him. Thus why my reply is, “I’m fairly certain that’s already happened.”
“Unless it hasn’t,” he replies softly, downing his drink and then tucking my hand around his elbow. “I’m hungry. How about you?”
He looks at me as if he’s hungry for me. And I most certainly am hungry for him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ivy
I quickly learn that everyone in the hotel knows Eli. He is quite the king of this castle. Kelly, the lounge attendant, greets him and gives him a keen eye that drinks him in a bit too hungrily for my present interest. He is also greeted by the lobby staff with friendly, familiar comments. Once inside the restaurant, which is on the lobby level inside the hotel, the staff greet him with more of the same.