Rebel (Wolfes of Manhattan 1)

“What time is your last appointment?” I asked.

She checked her phone. “Three thirty.”

“And how long will it take?”

“About forty-five minutes at most. Why?”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at your office at five to give you some cushion.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get a flight by tomorrow?”

“Very sure,” I said, winking. “We’ll be taking the Wolfe jet.”

Her eyes widened into circles. “What?”

“I’m the CEO of the company. All I need to do is make a call.”

“You can use the jet for personal business?”

“Of course. I’d bet my father took it all over the place, and I know Reid has used it to go to the Caribbean on more than one occasion.”

Her gorgeous lips dropped into an O.

I reached across the table and touched the bottom of her chin, closing her mouth. “Never flown in a private jet before?”

“Not once.”

“Well, tomorrow you can take that off your bucket list.”

“It wasn’t ever on my bucket list.”

“Oh? What is, then?”

She pinked up.

Interesting. She definitely had a bucket list, then.

“Come on, baby. Spill it.”

She closed her eyes and then opened them. “It’s silly, really.”

“Nah. Bucket lists aren’t silly.”

Her cheeks were fiery now. This was going to be good.

“Well…I’ve always wanted to go to a nudist place.”

This time my jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Yeah. Too weird for you?”

“Not at all. The idea is intriguing. I just wouldn’t have guessed that for you.”

“That’s because you don’t know me yet, just like I don’t know you.”

Oh, she was good. She found every tiny way to try to get information out of me. I wasn’t falling for it.

“I can probably arrange that nudist thing,” I said. Yeah, I’d be on that first thing in the morning.

If possible, she reddened even further. Fuck. She’d never been so enticing. My cock hardened right there at the table. I squirmed, adjusting myself.

When the waiter came to take our dinner orders, I said, “Wrap it up. We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” Lacey said.

“Sorry, baby,” I said, after the server left, “but I’m hard as a rock right now. I need to get you home. I’m going to eat you for dinner tonight.”38LaceyHe’d promised me a dinner. Told me he’d show me how a man was supposed to treat a date.

Instead, we ended up in his suite, our dinner in Styrofoam takeout containers. Rock called room service and had them bring up china, silverware, and a table complete with linens. He even had the server put our food out. Then he signed what I assumed was a huge tip and escorted him out the door.

Just as well we’d left the restaurant. I was still in my work clothes and I felt stiff and ridiculous.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of Rock. I missed his long hair, but now he looked like a male model walking the runway at an Armani fashion show. So unassumingly gorgeous. The man acted like he was nothing special, nothing spectacular.

But he was.

He’d already removed his suitcoat when we arrived, and now he loosened his tie and removed it, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt.

“Get comfortable, Lace.”

My skin prickled, sending a racing tingle down my spine and straight to my pussy. Get comfortable. Comfortable would mean out of my work clothes. I stood and headed into the bathroom. Sure enough, a robe hung on the inside of the door. I quickly stripped and covered myself with the lush white robe. Then I pulled my hair out of its French roll, fluffed it with my fingers, and went back out.

Rock’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wow.”

“You said get comfortable.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled as he removed his shirt. He stood wearing only his suit trousers, and the bulge inside them was very apparent.

I couldn’t help a smile. “Our dinner will get cold.”

“It’s probably already cold. Take off that robe.”

I obeyed, untying it and letting it slip over my shoulders before it fell to the floor.

He stared at me, and his gaze hardened my nipples. They stuck out like ripe berries, yearning for his touch. Meanwhile, I throbbed between my legs.

“I can see why you want to visit a nude beach,” he said. “You seem very comfortable naked.”

My body wasn’t nearly as beautiful as I imagined Nieves’s to be, but right now, the way he was looking at me, I felt like Helen of Troy herself.

He slid one lone finger over the apple of my cheek, down my neck, and over my shoulder. “So beautiful.”

I reached forward and touched his shoulder as well. “You are too.”

He smiled. “No one’s called me that before.”

“Beautiful? Then anyone who’s seen that chest is blind. It’s beautiful. You are beautiful, Rock Wolfe.”

“God, Lace.” He grabbed me and smashed our mouths together.

I opened, letting him in, surrendering to the passion of his kiss, the raw need in his groan as he devoured my mouth.