Page 15 of Dating the Rebel
“I thought you would like the music,” he said.
She arched a blond brow. “Really? Why?”
“You always dragged Blair to concerts with you,” he reminded her and himself, “even skipping school to stake out hotels where the band might have been staying.” He hadn’t been happy about his sister skipping school. His parents hadn’t really cared, though. He was the only one who’d cared about the trouble Miranda had gotten her into.
She chuckled. “That was a long time ago. I don’t stake out hotels anymore.”
She wouldn’t have to...not with the way she looked now. All she had to do was bat those long, thick lashes and she could have any man she wanted—no matter how rich and famous.
Why hadn’t she kept Matteo Rinaldi for herself?
Was she as determined as she used to be to remain single?
“Do you want to join me in my hotel?” he asked and braced himself for her to slap him. But before she could, he hastened to explain, “I could get you that big glass of wine you wanted earlier and something to eat.”
Her silvery-blue eyes had narrowed as she stared at him. “You booked a hotel room for the night?”
No. He didn’t have to since he owned the damn hotel. He didn’t bother explaining that, though. And she didn’t give him time.
“You said that I didn’t need a suitcase. That this was just going to be a short trip,” she said, her voice sharp and accusatory. “You lied to me!”
“I didn’t lie.” About the short trip. It hadn’t taken him long to fly them from Nice to Ibiza. “You don’t need a suitcase.”
She raised her hand then, and he flinched in expectation of her slap. But instead she just patted his beard and chuckled. “You haven’t changed a bit, Grant Snyder,” she murmured. “You’re still as much trouble as you ever were...”
“Me?” he asked, as if he was totally shocked. “You’re callingmetrouble?”
“You know you are,” she said. But she didn’t sound accusatory anymore. Instead her voice had a lilt of amusement to it.
“Hey, you’re the one with the dirty mind,” he said. “I was just saying that you don’t need a suitcase to share some wine and a meal with me—”
“At a hotel.”
“There are restaurants in hotels, you know.” His had a damn good one. Room service was even better... But he wasn’t going to let her know what he really wanted: her.
So he shook his head, and her hand slid away from his face—regrettably. He had liked the feeling of her palm running lightly across his beard. “You have such a one-track mind, Miranda Fox.”
She stepped back on the sand, and the moonlight illuminated her beautiful face and the sparkle in her eyes. “So that’s all you’re offering? Just a glass of wine and a meal in the hotel restaurant?”
“Of course I am,” he said. “I’m a gentleman, Miranda.”
She let out a weary-sounding sigh and murmured, “Well, that’s too bad.” Then she turned away as if to head back toward the nightclub.
His heart slammed against his ribs with shock. But it took him only a moment to process that and to react to her teasing challenge. Then he caught her shoulders in his hands and gently whirled her around before he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
He’d meant to surprise her, but the contact between their lips jolted him as if a spark had arced between them. Once again he braced himself for her to slap him, but her hands only skimmed briefly across his face, over his beard, before linking over the nape of his neck. She held his head down while she kissed him back.
Her lips were as silky as he’d imagined they would be and tasted slightly of strawberries and champagne—maybe from that shimmery gloss she wore. He nibbled lightly on them, teasing her to open her mouth and let him in...
But Miranda, being Miranda, bit back, her teeth just grazing his lips.
He chuckled as his pulse leaped with passion. And when he chuckled, she slid her little wet tongue into his mouth. Then he groaned with a desire so intense, his knees got a little shaky. Maybe that was just from standing on the sand, though, and having to lean so far over because she was so short.
It couldn’t be that Miranda Fox was so damn passionate she was about to bring him to his knees. He’d intended to make her beg for him, to get her so worked up that she would be willing to do whatever he asked.
But he was the one with the plea burning the back of his throat.Make love with me...
CHAPTER SIX
