Page 17 of Hot CEO

“Let me spoil you the way you deserve, ” he says with a slow smile. “Next time, I’ll take you out to my favorite restaurant and buy you one of everything to try, but tonight, I want you all to myself.”

I shudder, licking my lips. “This is crazy.”

He shrugs, putting down the knife and grabbing two wine glasses and a chilled bottle of expensive-looking white wine. “Sit,” he instructs, and I obey mindlessly, perching on the bar stool and accepting the glass of wine. “Dinner won’t be long.”

“And then…what happens?” I can’t help but ask, swallowing a mouthful of sweet wine. I make a surprised happy noise at the taste.

“Like it?” he asks, grinning. I nod. “I need to brush up on my cocktail-making skills, but I remember how much you like sweet drinks.”

I flush, ducking my head. “I’m still sorry about your shirt.”

“I’m not,” he answers easily. “It’s my prized possession now. But to answer your first question, what happens after is up to you.”

“I…” I want him. I want more of what happened in the kitchen. I want to please him in return even if I have no idea how. What if I’m bad at it?

“What I want is to have you spread out on my bed,” he says, sensing my hesitation. “I want to feel that pretty pussy around my cock. I want to make you scream my name, Savannah.”

Oh god. I clench my thighs together, nodding eagerly.

“But I’m not a total heathen,” he adds. “You need energy for that, so drink your wine and stop distracting me.”

I laugh, but I do as he says, watching him eagerly as he prepares a quick pasta for us. Watching Sean cook—the veins in his hands as he chops, the muscles in his back as he turns and sets the pans on the stovetop, the hint of his chest when he unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt—is better than any movie.

I’m ready to skip dinner and let him do whatever he wants to me by the time he serves me a big bowl of delicious-smelling pasta. But he’s right, I do need to eat first, and when he sits across from me, I’m hit with a storm of butterflies in my stomach.

It feels so…domestic, eating dinner together in his kitchen. I feel comfortable here with him, not as out of place as I probably should feel in a place as nice as this.

“What’s your favorite color?” Sean says as we take our first bite. The question surprises me, and I laugh.

“Pink. You?”

“Black.”

“That’s not a color,” I argue, pinning him with a stare. He rolls his eyes.

“Favorite food.”

This time, I point my fork at him. “What is this, a pop quiz?”

Sean smirks. “Well, I know your favorite drink, your coffee order, and that you think the best part of a cupcake is the icing, but I want to know everything I can about you, sweetness. So answer the question for me.”

I’m taken aback, blushing furiously as I take a sip of wine to try to cool myself down. He’s been paying attention. Close attention. I’ve never had anyone care enough to do that before.

I humor him, answering his questions like this really is a first date. I learn his favorite food is a very specific, fancy kind of risotto from a restaurant I can’t pronounce but he promises to take me to. Then, I feel a little silly telling him my favorite is pizza.

He asks me about my hometown and my family, taking interest in every part of me. By the time our plates are clean and our glasses are nearly empty, his questions have gotten more specific.

“Gold or silver jewelry?”

“Gold.”

He nods like he’s taking notes in his mind. “Favorite position.”

My eyes widen. “Uh…what?”

His eyes darken, and the air between us grows electric. “In bed, sweetness. How do you like to be fucked?”

I swallow thickly, every inch of me on high alert. God, I want him to touch me so badly. I need it. But first… “I don’t know,” I admit with as much confidence as I can muster. “But I want you to teach me.”

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