Page 16 of Mine to Ruin

He chuckles, and I follow him from the bathroom to the spacious kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Iced coffee or tea, or lemonade would be fine.”

I take a seat on a barstool as he opens his fridge and grabs one bottle of iced tea and a smoothie. Someone likes to eat healthy. Does he even know how a donut tastes? He offers me the drink and our hands graze each other, the touch sending a spark through my system.

“Thank you.” I open the bottle and gulp the sweet, peachy liquid down. When I’m done, Kian’s eyes dance with amusement.

“Thirsty?” he asks, a knowing smile curling up his lips.

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s Nevada, and the air conditioner is on full blast.”

You’re hotter than that. And I am thankful that my mouth didn’t spew that out. I doubt my thirst has anything to do with the state in which we live.

I clear my throat and say, “I have to get a view of the hotel, a better one, before I start.”

“Let’s take a tour.”

This is not the way to keep it professional. Still, I don’t complain as I hop off the stool. We take the elevator downstairs and start with the first floor.

“I wanted to move away from the whole hotel home concept. It’s absurd. A hotel room will never replace a home, but I wanted to offer an experience, something memorable,” he says and continues. “Every floor has its own theme, from the solar system, complete with stars, to the African jungle. There is a commercial zone, an entertainment park that extends over five floors. It was designed to fit in the hotel, but not intrude on guests’ privacy. The rooms are also soundproof.”

We walk by an aquarium under a swimming pool, and with every floor, my jaw hangs lower. From a planetarium to a tropical theme.

“I have never seen anything like this. Whoever planned this is a genius.”

His head cocks to the side, pride coloring his features, and he winks at me. That dimple alone is a work of art. “Thank you.”

“So, you’re a man of many talents?”

“Just a few, but I am proficient at those.” His voice drops with innuendo, and I clench my thighs.

This man is a sexual mountain I’d like to climb. I am one second away from asking him to show me all the areas he’s proficient in.

I clear my throat. “So, Mr. Reyes, who are you, besides a hotel chain owner, art collector, and healthy food enthusiast? How did you manage… all this? It can’t come from just eating healthy?” I dip my finger in his hard as stone torso and he dips his head and whispers in my ear.

“Sweat, a lot of sweat.”

I gulp. Why do I get the impression he likes to see me squirm?

“I train, Ellia. Hard.”

My cheeks redden to tomato level.

“What about you?” he asks with a grin.

“Have you seen my ass?” I’ve lost count of who is the more inappropriate one and I rush to add. “No, don’t answer that.”

He chuckles, making a show of biting his lower lip.

“Yes. I exercise. I wander around in my mind, dance with my fingers over a blank canvas, run through my feelings, bounce from one page to another. Believe me, I get enough exercise.”

“I mean the physical type.”

“I eat donuts like a champion.”

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