Page 20 of Strange Seduction
Not even once.
This woman was trying to kill me.
At dinner, we were tucked away at a corner booth.
Carmen leaned back against the cushioned seat, toying with her water glass as her red dress rode scandalously high up her thigh.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. Every move she made was a goddamn distraction, and I was the idiot sitting front row, jaw slack, and forgetting how to function. Hopefully she’d enjoy tonight enough to take what I had to tell her easily.
I doubt it but we’ll see how it goes.
She speared a piece of pasta with her fork and smiled at me over it.
“So… how was work?”
I thought about Vince’s bullshit, and my jaw tightened.
“Work was work,” I said finally, forcing myself to smile. “I’m just glad it’s over. Did you get any sleep?”
She made a face, adorably sheepish.
“Well, after I showered… I couldn’t sleep. So I, uh, explored the hotel.”
Then she launched into this animated, winding story about getting lost between the spa and the shopping arcade, trying to figure out the elevators.
I listened, soaking it all in, memorizing every detail. Every hand gesture, every breathless giggle.
I missed her.
Not just the sex. Not just her body.
Her.
“And this dress?” she said finally, smoothing her hands over the fabric like she was showing off treasure. “Fifteen hundred euros. That’s okay, right? I charged it to the room.”
I raised my eyebrows, pretending to be scandalized.
“Fifteen hundred?”
She blinked, panicked for a second. “Is it too much?”
A slow smile spread across my face as I reached across the table to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.
“It’s fine, baby. You could charge the whole store for all I care.”
Relief washed over her, and she beamed at me, that radiant, disarming smile that made it impossible to stay mad at her even if I wanted to.
“Okay,” she said brightly.
Her fingers fidgeted with the stem of her glass, and she bit her lip, a nervous little habit she didn’t even know drove me insane.
I let my eyes drag down her body, taking in every curve outlined by that blood-red fabric. The way she shifted under my gaze, thighs pressing together, told me she felt it too. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, my voice pitched low enough that only she could hear.
“You chose that dress for me,” I said, not a question.
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Panties?”
