Page 11 of Arrogant Playboy

“You probably don’t want to hear it, but fuck I want to kiss you, Rosie Hunt,” Daniel declares. I swallow hard because I want him to kiss me, too, but it’s a bad idea. “Say the word, Rosie, and my lips will be on you.”

“We can’t,” my words are barely a whisper.

Daniel slides closer to me in the booth, I can feel his warm breath against my skin, making it break out in goosebumps. “All I can think about is sliding my hand between your thighs and making you come in front of all these people.”

“Daniel.” His name comes out more like a moan than a warning.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night we met,” he whispers into my ear, his lips grazing against my neck as his hands slide over my thighs, teasing me.

“Me too,” I confess.

Fingers slide around the nape of my neck and grip me tightly. “Say the word, Rosie,” he declares. I turn my face, and our lips can almost touch, he is that close, every part of me is screaming …Do it … Do it.I want this man badly, but I know the alcohol has taken over, and I want to throw caution to the wind and say fuck it because I want that man’s lips, mouth, and hands on mybody again. His face is what I see when I pull out my vibrator and service myself.You wouldn’t have to when he is offering you the real deal.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say, pulling myself from his grasp. I can see the disappointment and hunger in his eyes, but he lets me go.

“Would you hurry up,I need to pee,” I yell at him. The stupid pub’s female toilets were out of order and the smell coming from the males had me gagging. Daniel assured me his home was around the corner from the pub and that I could use his bathroom. If I wasn’t desperate there would be no way in hell I’d be going home with him. We have both had way too much to drink as we stumble along the streets.

“Here it is,” he says as we stop out the front of a terraced house in Mayfair. I stare at the building and my jaw drops. This must be a ten-million-pound home. How rich is this guy? He inputs a code to his front door and walks in, I follow him. He throws his jacket onto the cloak hook in the entrance and then kicks off his shoes, leaving them to lay haphazardly to the side.

“There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he says, pointing down the corridor past the kitchen and living area. I follow his direction, turn, and find the bathroom. Stepping in, I marvel at the grey marble that encases the powder room as I do my business. I admire the gorgeous veins that run through it. I take in the brassware, the black concrete sink, the light fixtures, everything is perfect. After washing my hands, I head back out to where Daniel is in the kitchen.

“Love your powder room. Did Ivy do it?”

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. I bought the home like this.”

“Well, they did a good job,” I add as I watch him pull out pots and pans. “What are you doing?”

“Making us croque monsieur’s,” he states as if that is normal.

“A what?”

He stills and looks at me. “Please tell me you have had one before?” I shake my head. He then mumbles something in French as he pulls out the ingredients he needs.

“Do you need any help?” I ask as I stand there awkwardly.

“I’d love a bottle of water. They are in the fridge. Grab one for yourself, too,” he says, pointing to the fridge. I open the fridge, find two bottles, and place one down in front of him, then take a seat on the other side of the counter and watch him make whatever it is he is making.

Silence falls between us and I hate it. I don’t know what to say or do after the way we left things in the pub. I mean, my bladder really saved the day as I was seconds from letting him kiss me and that would have been a disaster.But now you’re at his home, so did it really save the day?

“Do you have any siblings?” I blurt out, trying to kill the awkward silence.

“Yes, a half-brother, Louis, he lives in France, and I have my two cousins, Matthieu, who runs the Paris office, and Deveraux, who runs the New York office of DuPont,” he explains.

“You’re all in art?”

“My aunt and uncle are very much in that scene, my father was not. I chose to follow in their footsteps, not his,” he says through gritted teeth. “I only found out about my brother recently. Unfortunately, my mother hid the secret all my life, my father had an affair with his secretary, who is my brother’s mother. My own mother confessed the secret just before she passed because she knew she would be leaving me alone.” Afrown mars his face as if remembering how happy he was to find a brother but then losing his mom. “Do you have any siblings?” he asks, changing the subject.

“An older brother. He’s a fisherman down south, married, and they had the family’s first grandbaby only a couple of months ago.”

“What did they have?”

“Little boy called George.” He gives me a smile.

“We’re all very excited. I’m close to my family even though I live in London. I’ve known my best friends my entire life. We all grew up in a small village, you know the place where you marry your high school sweetheart, pop out babies, and never leave the area.”

“And that’s not what Rosie Hunt wanted was it?” He grins as he continues to cook.

“None of us wanted that. We couldn’t get out of the village quickly enough. We worked our asses off to get into our colleges here in London so we could escape.”

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