“I’ve discovered that I love to tease you,” he offered finally. The way in which he raked his eyes over my body told me the reaction he got out of me turned him on a little.
“What does it do for you?” I asked in a whisper, my body tightening in preparation for what he might say.
“It makes me hard when your eyes start flashing and you get feisty with me.” His eyes flared at me and his voice went low. “I can think of only one thing, Brynne.” He reached out with his fingertip and brushed down the length of my ring finger, sending a tingle up my arm. “Do you want to know what it is?”
“Yes…”
“How long before we’re f**king again and I’ve got you spread underneath me about to come.”
Okay, so it turned him on a lot.
I closed my eyes and suppressed the shiver of desire that zipped through my body to pool between my legs. The Italian crystal glass of water in front of me was drained in one pass, and I no longer cared a bit about having any dessert after my dinner.
Why on earth did I agree to go out tonight?
I cleared my throat and tried to shake off the blast furnace of heat Ethan was throwing off, and attempted to get back to the conversation we were in before. “So, you were alluding to my driving a minute ago…”
He picked up my hand and rubbed with his thumb over my knuckles, his eyes telling me he would make good on his wicked thoughts just as soon as we could get back to the villa. “Yes, my beauty?”
“I—I wasn’t that bad driving.” I tilted my head. “Was I?” Ethan had indulged my request to drive us again. We were in Italy where they drove on the right side of the road, and I had enough confidence to do it here. My California driver’s license was still valid and I didn’t want to forget how to. In the four years since I’d lived in London I’d not owned a car or driven myself, mostly because of the left-handed driving situation. It was just too scary for me to attempt, and really, not necessary when public transportation was so good in the city. I’d never needed to drive in England. Plus we had a smokin’ hot BMW 650 convertible rental in midnight-blue…and I planned on using it.
“Well, no, you’re never bad at anything…” he hedged, “it’s just that driving on the right is not even slightly in my comfort zone. And I certainly don’t want you getting hurt. I’d feel much more at ease with you in a bigger vehicle with better safety features.”
“I don’t think I will ever drive in the city. Seriously, I don’t think I could ever be comfortable driving myself in London even if I live there for the rest of my life.”
He smiled thoughtfully at me, the blue of his eyes darkening to a deep midnight. “You’ll be living with me for the rest of your life, wherever that is doesn’t matter very much as long as we’re together. And you don’t have to worry about driving around London either, because it is a bloody nightmare, and I don’t want you doing it. You’ve got me to drive you.” He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed another seductive kiss to my palm. “You do know…if you want to drive, I can make that happen—”
The waiter who’d served our dinner interrupted right then with a gift from a patron at another table. A bottle of wine—a very expensive bottle of Biondi Santi, that I, sadly, would not be able to drink for a very long time. We both looked in the direction where he pointed us to a man who looked vaguely familiar to me. Tall, caramel-skinned, and very handsome, he moved with the elegance of someone who used their body as an athlete would, every movement calculated for precision, the unmistakable air of confidence exuded in every step he took toward our table.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Ethan greeted him, gesturing to the bottle, “and thank you for this. Very nicely done.” The two of them shook hands warmly.
“My pleasure,” he answered in a sophisticated British accent laced with amusement.
Ethan made the introductions. “Dillon, my wife, Brynne. And this fellow here, my darling, is Dillon Carrington.”
“How do you do, Brynne. Lovely to meet you in person. I have only seen pictures of you in the gossip rags.” He extended his hand and I offered mine. There was something very familiar about Dillon Carrington but I couldn’t put my finger on it, even though it was obvious he and Ethan were well acquainted.
“Nice to meet you as well, Dillon. Thank you for the wine. I’m sure it will be delicious, but I feel as if I’ve seen you somewhere. Have we met before?”
Dillon shook his head, laughing. “No, never. I would definitely remember meeting you, Brynne.”
“Ethan?” I looked to him for some help but he apparently was having too much fun at my expense because he only winked at me.
“You know, Dillon, it’s funny because Brynne and I were just having a conversation about teaching her to drive British, being she’s a Yank by birth.”
“Ahhh, loads of fun that is. Righty learning lefty. You want to borrow my crash suit, mate?” Dillon asked him.
Crash suit? I had no idea who this guy was but knew that I definitely should know him, especially since he knew who I was. I seriously needed to pay better attention to the gossip mags. Ethan knew a lot of famous people, and our engagement and wedding had been splashed all over British media.
“Would you like to join us? Are you on your own tonight? Ethan offered out of courtesy.
“No, no thank you. I don’t want to interrupt you, but I saw you when I came in and wanted to say hello, and give my congratulations of course. I am meeting someone in a minute, actually.”
“Ahh, right, well, I’m glad you did. We missed you at the wedding, but I know you were just a tad busy that day.”
Dillon laughed at that comment. “Yes, slightly. They had me driving ’round in circles the whole weekend. I come down here for a little R & R afterward when I can manage it.”
“Congratulations on your win. I watched the highlights and you tore it up. Brilliant performance.” I could tell Ethan was suitably impressed by whatever Dillon had won.
“Thanks. And for the sponsorship, too. I hope you got the signed gifts I had them send out.”
“Seriously, money well spent all the way ’round. Seeing Blackstone’s logo on number eighty-one was quite the defining moment for me. Truly.”
I took a stab at a guess and interrupted. “Are you a race car driver, Dillon?”