Tycoon
Page 42
“I love this,” I say, glancing sheepishly down at my dress. “Do you?”
His eyes twinkle. “That’s putting it mildly. You look stunning in it.” He eyes me appreciatively.
“Thank you. I’m feeling high on emotions, so forgive me if I tear up.”
I wave my face with my hand and he approaches. “You’re welcome. You deserve it after what I put you through.”
“Your awful vetting, you mean?”
He nods, sliding a hand down my waist, then brushing my hair back as he drinks in my every feature with lazy interest.
We smile at each other. He then grabs his keys and cell phone from a foyer table, leaning over me to do it. My breath catches when his hot whisper trickles along my ear. “You have no clue how much I look forward to taking that off you tonight,” he whispers and sets a kiss on my cheek.
“I just put it on!” At his answering chuckle, I try to suppress a giggle, but he leans over and takes it with his lips, kissing me softly, pressing me into him with his hands splayed on my back.
I can feel his erection against my abdomen, and the memory of what it feels like inside of me makes me whimper as his tongue moves over mine. I sink into him, time and space evaporating to nothing as I kiss him back.
He tears free with effort.
“Let’s go,” he says, his fingers touching the small of my back as he leads me out of his place and to the elevators.
Christos is watching me over the fancy red menu. We smile.
My feelings toward him are becoming more and more intense.
I know he’s had rosters of women; why he’d want to involve himself with me is a mystery. But he doesn’t even try to hide the desire in his eyes. And even more confusing is why I’d want to get myself involved with him, of all the guys? He’s the one that is the most difficult to understand, and impossible to control, plus why ruin a possibly good business relationship? Why ruin what could be a very healthy friendship-slash-business relationship?
Because he’s adorable when he smiles and his eyes shine a little brighter—a little more green than gold.
And when he looks at me, sometimes, as if he’s still the boy that had a crush on me, I melt. I’ve missed this guy.
At the end of the evening, accused of eating most of his dessert and mine, I laugh and snuggle close as he helps me out of my chair, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
After dinner, we walk down 5th Avenue—it’s one of those rare walks where you’re just walking for pleasure, without any rush of having to be anywhere or wanting to be any other place than where you are.
“I’ve never really opened up to a guy before—about my parents. It’s so easy with you. I’ve been scared that you could hurt me. But lately I’ve been thinking that I don’t want to be scared anymore. That if anything, you’re the one guy I’d trust not to hurt me.”
I reach out and slip my hand into his—then realize what I’m doing.
“I can’t believe I did that.” I’m so shocked by how naturally I grabbed his hand that I try to withdraw my hand.
“Why.” He gives me a gentle squeeze, keeping my grip in his.
“It was just so impulsive, I just…”
“Just what….” He drags his thumb over mine, his smile fading a little, his golden eyes both penetrating and coaxing.
He trails his thumb into my palm as he waits for my reply.
A million sparks rush up my arms and back.
I feel so awake when I’m close to him and also so completely uneven. It’s as if he literally rocks my world, and it’s hard to find my footing when he’s near.
He’s staring at me again, so I tuck my hand away and nervously bite on my lip.
Christos is a shark for business but he’s a shark for everything he does as well. He has so much more mileage than me, even in relationships. I’ve never had a real one before.
It seems so easy for him to reach out and take my hand in his again, squeeze me tight.
My heart feels like it grows about ten sizes in my chest as I let the feeling sink in, let myself enjoy it.
There’s a reward in simple things like letting him hold my hand, here in New York, where so many other people walk past us, unaware of this being the first time I do this. The only guy that’s ever made me want to be with someone. With him.
“Christos, I want you to know that…I’m not playing games here. I know it may seem like that because I’ve been scared, but I’m not interested in some fling.”
“I’m not planning on this being a fling. I’m dead serious about you, Bryn.” He looks at me soberly, and I swallow with emotion and nod, relieved that he feels like this.
“So no other man for you? Ever?”
“No. I mean I dated for some time, but nothing serious. Not really.”
“I can’t believe all those idiots let you slip by.”
I laugh. “There’s not many of them, really. I know I seem extroverted but I’m more introvert, I’m drained around too many people. I used to think I’d be more extroverted when I grew up, but I find the opposite is actually true.” I glance at his thoughtful profile. “What about you, do you find you’re more open to friendships as you get older?” I say.
He shrugs. “Not really,” he finally says. “There are friends, then there are acquaintances. I can count the former with the fingers of one hand.” He shoots me a smile.
The wind blows through his sexy hair. I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body walking next to mine. Of everything about him. It’s never been like this for me, ever. It shouldn’t be like this with him, and not now. But it is; and it’s difficult to put a name to the things he makes me feel.
His eyes twinkle. “That’s putting it mildly. You look stunning in it.” He eyes me appreciatively.
“Thank you. I’m feeling high on emotions, so forgive me if I tear up.”
I wave my face with my hand and he approaches. “You’re welcome. You deserve it after what I put you through.”
“Your awful vetting, you mean?”
He nods, sliding a hand down my waist, then brushing my hair back as he drinks in my every feature with lazy interest.
We smile at each other. He then grabs his keys and cell phone from a foyer table, leaning over me to do it. My breath catches when his hot whisper trickles along my ear. “You have no clue how much I look forward to taking that off you tonight,” he whispers and sets a kiss on my cheek.
“I just put it on!” At his answering chuckle, I try to suppress a giggle, but he leans over and takes it with his lips, kissing me softly, pressing me into him with his hands splayed on my back.
I can feel his erection against my abdomen, and the memory of what it feels like inside of me makes me whimper as his tongue moves over mine. I sink into him, time and space evaporating to nothing as I kiss him back.
He tears free with effort.
“Let’s go,” he says, his fingers touching the small of my back as he leads me out of his place and to the elevators.
Christos is watching me over the fancy red menu. We smile.
My feelings toward him are becoming more and more intense.
I know he’s had rosters of women; why he’d want to involve himself with me is a mystery. But he doesn’t even try to hide the desire in his eyes. And even more confusing is why I’d want to get myself involved with him, of all the guys? He’s the one that is the most difficult to understand, and impossible to control, plus why ruin a possibly good business relationship? Why ruin what could be a very healthy friendship-slash-business relationship?
Because he’s adorable when he smiles and his eyes shine a little brighter—a little more green than gold.
And when he looks at me, sometimes, as if he’s still the boy that had a crush on me, I melt. I’ve missed this guy.
At the end of the evening, accused of eating most of his dessert and mine, I laugh and snuggle close as he helps me out of my chair, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
After dinner, we walk down 5th Avenue—it’s one of those rare walks where you’re just walking for pleasure, without any rush of having to be anywhere or wanting to be any other place than where you are.
“I’ve never really opened up to a guy before—about my parents. It’s so easy with you. I’ve been scared that you could hurt me. But lately I’ve been thinking that I don’t want to be scared anymore. That if anything, you’re the one guy I’d trust not to hurt me.”
I reach out and slip my hand into his—then realize what I’m doing.
“I can’t believe I did that.” I’m so shocked by how naturally I grabbed his hand that I try to withdraw my hand.
“Why.” He gives me a gentle squeeze, keeping my grip in his.
“It was just so impulsive, I just…”
“Just what….” He drags his thumb over mine, his smile fading a little, his golden eyes both penetrating and coaxing.
He trails his thumb into my palm as he waits for my reply.
A million sparks rush up my arms and back.
I feel so awake when I’m close to him and also so completely uneven. It’s as if he literally rocks my world, and it’s hard to find my footing when he’s near.
He’s staring at me again, so I tuck my hand away and nervously bite on my lip.
Christos is a shark for business but he’s a shark for everything he does as well. He has so much more mileage than me, even in relationships. I’ve never had a real one before.
It seems so easy for him to reach out and take my hand in his again, squeeze me tight.
My heart feels like it grows about ten sizes in my chest as I let the feeling sink in, let myself enjoy it.
There’s a reward in simple things like letting him hold my hand, here in New York, where so many other people walk past us, unaware of this being the first time I do this. The only guy that’s ever made me want to be with someone. With him.
“Christos, I want you to know that…I’m not playing games here. I know it may seem like that because I’ve been scared, but I’m not interested in some fling.”
“I’m not planning on this being a fling. I’m dead serious about you, Bryn.” He looks at me soberly, and I swallow with emotion and nod, relieved that he feels like this.
“So no other man for you? Ever?”
“No. I mean I dated for some time, but nothing serious. Not really.”
“I can’t believe all those idiots let you slip by.”
I laugh. “There’s not many of them, really. I know I seem extroverted but I’m more introvert, I’m drained around too many people. I used to think I’d be more extroverted when I grew up, but I find the opposite is actually true.” I glance at his thoughtful profile. “What about you, do you find you’re more open to friendships as you get older?” I say.
He shrugs. “Not really,” he finally says. “There are friends, then there are acquaintances. I can count the former with the fingers of one hand.” He shoots me a smile.
The wind blows through his sexy hair. I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body walking next to mine. Of everything about him. It’s never been like this for me, ever. It shouldn’t be like this with him, and not now. But it is; and it’s difficult to put a name to the things he makes me feel.
