She squinted. “How did you know his name was Eamon?”
Shit. “It doesn’t matter. You ended it early. What matters is that you’re here now and not with that ass-wipe.”
“He’s not an ass-wipe, and it does matter. How did you know his name?”
“My driver paid the maître de to get the name on your reservation.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know who my competition was on the chance that you’d like him enough to go out with him for reasons other than an attempt to forget me.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re so full of yourself. You think my date had something to do with you? Newsflash, Dexter Truitt, the world does not revolve around you.”
“Really? That’s a shame. Especially since mine seems to revolve around you as of late.”
We stared at each other. There were clearly a million thoughts going through her head as her eyes jumped back and forth. Unfortunately, she settled on the one I had hoped she’d rid herself of already. “I should go,” she whispered.
I felt desperate. I closed the little gap that remained between us. The heat from our bodies was radiating, and the smell of her perfume engulfed my senses. When I glanced down, I realized her chest was rising and falling as rapidly as mine. I couldn’t let her leave. I just couldn’t. “Don’t go.”
“I need to.”
Recognizing I was out of time and she was about to bolt, I used the only thing I knew was her weakness—her attraction to me. Taking her face in my hands, I cupped both cheeks, and planted my lips over hers. “Stay. Don’t leave.” Then I devoured her mouth. She opened without hesitation, and my tongue dove right in finding hers. Feeling her physically surrender to me so easily was a complete turn-on. I pressed my body into hers, pinning her between the door and my naked chest. Her tits pushed up, beckoning to be set free from her strapless little dress, and the feel of her bare skin against mine was fucking incredible. I wanted to lift her up and cradle her in my arms as I carried her back to my bedroom.
I was just about to, too, when Bianca nudged at my chest. Her voice was breathless, and she didn’t sound like she actually meant one word. “Dex. We need to slow down.”
I leaned my forehead against hers. “I’ve been trying to slow down since the day I met you. I seem to only have one speed when it comes to you, Georgy Girl.”
Her lip twitched. “Georgy Girl? Isn’t that what Jay used to call me?”
“Yes. But it’s what I’ve called you in my head since the first day I met you.”
She pondered that for a moment. “I do like it. It’s sweet.”
“There’s a first. Not sure a woman’s ever called me sweet before.”
“That’s the thing with you, Dex. On the outside, you appear to be something very different than what I keep catching glimpses of on the inside.”
Her sexy red lipstick was smeared. I rubbed it from her face with my thumb. “Oh yeah? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It’s a good thing. It means deep down inside you’re not the jerk that you show people on the outside. The one who lies to women in elevators.”
A flash of what I saw when the elevator lights flickered on that day popped into my head. “I thought you were stunning the first time I saw you.”
“I didn’t think you were so bad yourself.”
“I’m so unbelievably attracted to you. For weeks I haven’t been able to think about you without getting a hard on.”
Bianca blushed. “I think I feel that attraction digging into my hip right now.”
I grinned, but didn’t make an attempt to move. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” She shoved at my chest. “Go put some clothes on. We need to sit down and talk. And you can’t be in a towel.”
“I could take it off.”
She waved her hand in the direction of my very visible erection then shook her head and pointed down the hall to my bedroom. “That thing is distracting. Go. And don’t come back until it’s less…bulgy.”I needed a full ten minutes to get my head screwed on straight. Not to mention get my raging hard on under control. Bianca was here instead of on her date. It was a start. If I could manage to keep my dick out of my head, maybe I stood a chance after all.
I dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain, dark t-shirt before spraying on some cologne and slicking back my wet hair. Then I double checked that my bulge was adequately deflated and headed back to the living room. Bianca was looking out the window.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.
“Are you having something?”
“I was going to open a bottle of wine. Do you like red?”