Page 13 of Dating the Billionaire
“We need to work off that meal.”
She heartily agreed, but she didn’t want to appear too eager to go to back to his room with him. “So we’re going to go lift weights?” she asked, teasing him. Dressed as they were, she doubted that was the plan, but if he actually stopped at a gym, he would be surprised by what she could lift. Hopefully not intimidated, though, as so many other men were.
He chuckled. “I was thinking more along the lines of cardio.”
A smile tugged at her lips over his flirting. “I’m sure you are...”
The car stopped again; the restaurant must not have been far from his hotel. But when the back door opened, it was to a crowd and an explosion of noise and lights. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Corso Como,” he replied. “Where did you think we were going to work off that meal?” His dark eyes twinkled with amusement.
He knew where she’d thought and maybe even that she’d wanted to go there.
But she exited eagerly from the limo, happy to go dancing as well. While Blair would never admit it, Miranda had been right; it had been too damn long since she’d enjoyed a man. She was having fun.
More fun than she could remember having in a long time. Dancing was just an appetizer, too, for what would come. So she made certain to tease Teo with every brush of her body against his, with her every movement, every swish of her hair...
But in teasing him, she was teasing herself—upping the attraction between them, the tension and the desire to a level she’d never felt before. She wanted him so damn badly.
He wanted her so damn badly. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down his spine beneath his tuxedo shirt. He’d left the jacket in the back of the limo. But he was still so hot. And not just from the dancing.
Heat moved through him like an inferno, burning him up from the inside out as he watched her body shimmy and shake to the music pulsing out of speakers in the nightclub. Lights flashed, illuminating her beautiful face. Her lips curved into that sexy smile again.
She knew she was driving him out of his damn mind. And she thought it was funny...
This was a game he didn’t mind, though. Building the tension, the anticipation.
If it went somewhere.
But he could allow himself no expectations. She’d made that clear at the beginning of their date.
While it might have started out as she’d claimed, as a ploy to get Francesca to stop throwing eligible and sometimes not-so-eligible women at him, it was a real date now. Not that they’d had much opportunity to talk yet. At the gallery they’d been constantly interrupted. And at the restaurant, they’d been too busy eating.
God, how she ate.
It was as sexy as her dancing. His body, having been hard for hours, ached with the desperate need for release. They hadn’t been able to talk in the nightclub, either. He was barely able to hear himself think, but he’d wanted this.
Wanted to watch her dance.
To see how she moved.
To imagine how she might move when it was just the two of them, alone, naked.
Would he get the opportunity to see her naked? Or was she just playing with him? Getting back at him for using her to protect him from his sister?
Despite hating games, he wouldn’t necessarily blame her—since he’d played one himself. But that game had been with Francesca. He’d always intended to make this date a real one despite starting the evening at the gallery.
After meeting Savannah, though, he had changed up his plan. He had chosen to take her to a better restaurant, a more popular nightclub.
Nothing but the best for her.
She seemed to be enjoying herself.
He wanted her to enjoy him.
So he reached out and caught one of her wrists, and her pulse leaped beneath his thumb. She was attracted to him, too. Maybe she wouldn’t turn him down...if he asked.
But could he ask, after the warning she’d given him?
Then she put her free hand on his chest, over his madly pounding heart, and leaned close. Her lips brushed across his earlobe as she whispered, “Take me back to your hotel.”
His pulse leaped now, racing away—making his heart pound furiously, making his flesh heat until he felt as if he were burning up.
“Are you sure?” he asked her. He wanted to make it clear to her what would happen if they returned to his suite—if they were alone.
So he pulled her into his arms, tight against his body. And he moved his hips so that she felt what she’d done to him, the hardness of his erection straining the fly of his dress pants.
Her lips parted, not on a gasp of shock but a smile. And she repeated, “Take me back to your hotel room.”
