Page 8 of The Billionaire Alpha's Surprise Baby

All the while, Garrett just stares down at me as though I’m the only woman in the room.

“You look beautiful,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear.

“So do you,” I reply without thinking.

Garrett laughs, and I immediately want to make him do it again. The sound turns my insides to jelly. “Better now that I’m not wearing that douchebag’s cappuccino?”

“Yes,” I say, grimacing at the memory. “Sorry. Again.”

“Why?” he asks, still grinning broadly. “It’s a memorable story. I think that’s what they in the movie biz call a ‘meet-cute.’”

“A ‘meet-cute’?” I repeat, cocking one eyebrow and trying not to laugh. “Like in rom-coms?”

Garrett shrugs. “What can I say? I’ll watch anything as long as Drew Barrymore’s in it.”

This time, I can’t hold back my snort. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Okay, fine.” Garrett rolls his eyes. “It’s Sandra Bullock that I like. I actually can’t stand Drew Barrymore, if you want to know the truth — her or Adam Sandler.”

“How dare you!” I retort in a tone of mock offense. “What’s Drew ever done to you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she a friend of yours?”

I can tell from his tone that he’s fucking with me, so I scrunch up my face to keep our banter going. “Mmm . . . more like a friend of a friend.”

“I see.” Garrett’s eyes twinkle. “My apologies.”

I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Garrett gives a thoughtful pause and then adds, “Drew is actually a lovely person. I just don’t like her movies.”

“Okay, now I know you’re fucking with me.”

“Am not!” Garrett arranges his face in a faux-serious expression. “I swear on my mother’s life. Though, in the interest of full disclosure, she is currently rotting in the family crypt, so take that for what it’s worth.”

I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to laugh or look horrified, but laughter is what bubbles up first. Maybe it’s the tequila or the heady, delirious feeling Garrett brings out in me. Either way, I’m in trouble.

Throwing caution to the wind, I reach up to straighten the collar of his shirt, which has gotten turned up in the course of our dance. I feel his chest expand, and then he holds his breath as my fingers brush the bit of exposed skin just inside his collar.

“So, besides name-dropping Drew Barrymore, is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest?”

“Like what?” he asks, and I’m pleased that he sounds almost as breathless as I am.

“Like . . . something besides your first name. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, let’s see . . .” Garrett pulls a thoughtful look and tugs me closer until our hips are fused together. I suck in a breath as his hardness presses into me, but Garrett appears not to notice. “I’m thirty-one. Left-handed. I’m a Leo — and an organ donor, though I’m not sure anyone would really want my liver. My blood type is O negative. I’m a cat person, not a dog person. I prefer cake to pie . . .” He pauses and fixes me with an intense look that seems to make time stop. “And I’d really, really like to take you on a date.”

I’m not sure if it’s that look in his eyes or the feeling of his erection pressing into my stomach, but suddenly I can’t think. I want to stretch up onto my tiptoes and kiss those perfect lips, but I doubt I’d be able to reach them —even in my bargain heels.

Garrett seems to read my mind, because he reaches down to brush a stray hair out of my face. That soft touch is enough to send a bolt of heat straight through my stomach to the apex of my thighs. I swallow. We’re standing in the middle of the dance floor, fully clothed, and yet my panties are completely soaked.

Garrett’s nostrils flare as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and his eyes seem to lighten to an almost silvery shade of blue.

“I . . .” I open and close my mouth without knowing what I’m going to say, and Garrett’s eyes flutter closed.

My chest squeezes as he stoops forward to kiss me, and the instant his warm lips brush my own, I feel some little piece inside me click into place.

His lips are soft and clearly practiced at this, and he tastes like rum. I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, and little warning bells go off in my head.

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