Playing Dirty: Windy City Kink, Book 3 (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

Raff sucked air into his lungs, his dick on fire, balls aching. He looked at Paige standing there, damp hair all sexy and messy, that objectionable robe gaping open to reveal her delicate cleavage and bare legs. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her into his bedroom and fuck her brains out. He was two seconds away from doing just that.

He curled his hands around the armrest of his chair to keep from grabbing her, and fought for control.

“No,” she said, but she smiled when she said it, a sexy, flirty smile. “I want dinner.”

He gazed at her, suddenly feeling like things had shifted out of his control. What the fuck? His chest rose and fell, his abs contracted. “Uh. Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m going to go finish getting ready.”

The sun had now dropped so low only a thin sliver glowed at the horizon, and dusk was falling. “Yeah. Me too.” He picked up his wineglass and tossed down what was left in a few fast gulps. Not exactly the way to enjoy a fine wine, but fuck it.

He watched her wrap the robe tighter then turn and disappear into the suite.

Was this a good sign? Or was he fucked? As in, figuratively fucked, because if he was literally fucked he’d be a happy, happy man, but that wasn’t what he was worried about. His dick still throbbed in his board shorts and he gave it a stroke, tugging his balls down through the fabric. Jesus Christ.

He went to shower and change.

A short time later, he met up with Paige in the kitchenette, where they both set their wineglasses on the counter. She looked fucking amazing. The dress was simple, like a long black tank top. His only complaint was that it went all the way to the floor and hid those sexy legs.

Her hair was now dry and styled, cute as ever with those long bangs. She’d put on some eye makeup and her lips shone.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

They walked in the dusk along an illuminated path through the resort to where his car was waiting for them, then drove to the restaurant.

He’d been there a few times before, but Paige smiled as she took in the elegant décor. Large windows overlooked the bay, the lights of the city glittering from across it, echoing the glimmer of glass and silver on the tables inside the room. They were seated at a table for two in a quiet corner behind a large potted palm.

The menu was Mexican fusion, and Paige studied the selections with interest. They shared Ahi-tuna towers to start, fresh sweet tuna marinated in lemon and soy sauce, topped with tomatoes, avocado and sesame seeds, beautifully presented. Paige ordered a Santa Fe chicken pasta and Raff a beef filet with guacamole and cactus salad. Everything was fresh and delicious.

“Tell me about your business,” Paige requested as they ate.

“That’s a big topic.” He sliced into the beef.

“How did you get started?”

He paused. “I got into the business mostly by accident. Of course, flipping houses is a little different than what I do now.”

“A little.” She lifted an eyebrow.

He grinned. “Okay a lot. So yeah, I started flipping houses.” He wasn’t going to share every detail about how he’d gotten the money to buy that first house. “My buddy Finn and I started together. We needed to make money. We grew up together, neither of us had two dimes to rub together, and working at McDonald’s didn’t appeal. We were impatient and ambitious and, frankly, stupid as hell. But we made money every time. We seemed to have a knack for finding the right property and for timing, so changes in the market worked in our favor. We bought bigger and better, made more money.”

“Does Finn still work with you?”

“No.” His jaw tightened briefly. “We didn’t work together long, actually. We wanted different things. I kept going myself.”

“You’ve done very well. Did you and Finn stay friends after that?”

“Sort of.” It was fucking complicated. “I see him once in a while.”

“What kind of business is he in?”

“He owns strip clubs.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“How’s your pasta?”

He watched her face change, a small notch forming between her eyebrows at his abrupt change of subject. She dropped her gaze. “It’s really good. Do you want to try some?”

“No, that’s okay.” He wanted to get this meal over with and get back to the hotel. Although he had one more stop planned for their evening. He debated skipping the visit to Alto, a rooftop bar in the Gaslamp Quarter. But she’d been so delighted and appreciative of everything they’d done he didn’t want her to miss that.

She was completely unspoiled and unpretentious. So different than many of the women he’d dated over the years. He wasn’t sure what had changed her mind and resulted in her accepting his invitation, and she’d seemed more relaxed around him than she had the first couple of times they’d met. Even over the weekend, she’d become more and more at ease with him. But still he sensed that caution, that resistance to the attraction that was smoldering between them.

That make-out session earlier on the terrace had just about killed him. She’d been right into it too, melting into him, and he was sure he could have had her in his bed in two seconds if he’d pushed.

Not pushing was making him fucking nuts.

“Got room for dessert?” he asked after the waiter had removed their plates. “The
tres leches
cake is good.”

She eyed him. “You don’t sound enthusiastic. Is it not that good?”

“It’s fantastic. I just want to get out of here.”

“Oh.” She sat back in her chair. “In a hurry to get somewhere else?”

“You know where I want to get.”

Her lips parted and a flush rose into her cheeks. “Um. Yeah.”

“But…” he picked up his wine and drained the glass, “…we have one more stop before we go back to the hotel.”

“Okay. And I don’t have room for dessert anyway.”

“Good.” He took care of the bill, the car was brought around front for them and they were off, cruising through the dark streets of San Diego.

He pulled up in front of a hotel, once again turned the car over to a valet and ushered Paige into the lobby. He sensed her curiosity as they rode the elevator to the top level.

They emerged to the rooftop, and Paige sucked in a sharp breath. “Wow,” she said. “This is amazing.”

Fire pits glowed with bright flames, surrounded by comfortable thick-cushioned wicker couches. A bar along one wall was sheltered by a canopy, luminous with lights and glittering bottles of liquor and glasses. The view of the city skyline, glimmering skyscrapers against the dark sky, was stunning.

He moved through the arrangements of tables and chairs to a fire pit in the corner and pulled Paige down onto the small couch. The flames warmed their faces in the night air that had cooled off since the sun had set. A waitress approached them right away.

Paige ordered their cocktail special, an intriguing lemon-ginger martini; Raff ordered a beer. Only one, since he was driving.

“This is lovely, Raff.”

He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Good thing you brought a sweater. It’s a little cool up here this evening.”

“The fire’s nice, though. And the view.” She sighed with pleasure.

He liked the feel of her up against him. But impatience was building inside him. He was going to have Paige tonight. He felt it. He knew it. He’d sworn to keep his hands off her all weekend unless she finally submitted to it, to the chemistry between them, but now that he felt it was so close, his body was humming with adrenaline and hormones.

“San Diego is beautiful,” she murmured.

“We’ll come back.”

She tipped her head to look at him. “Raff.”

“Not next weekend. But, seriously, we’ll come back.”

She was silent for a moment, then she said quietly, “You didn’t want to talk much about your business when I asked you.”

He let that move through his head. “What’s your point?” he finally asked, since he really had no clue.

“I thought we were getting to know each other more this weekend. And you shut down.”

Huh. “Maybe there are things about me you don’t want to know.”

She lifted her chin and pursed her lips. More silence. Then she nodded. “What you really mean by that is there are things
you
don’t want
me to know.”

He felt a jab in his heart. She was dead right.

“I get that,” she continued. She paused as the waitress appeared with their drinks, setting them on the tiled edge of the fire pit. When she left, Paige reached for her drink and picked it up. “I get that, because I have things about me I don’t want
you
to know. So it’s cool.”

Wait. What? She was keeping stuff from him? He frowned. “Like what?”

She laughed. “I just said I don’t want you to know.” She lifted a hand and patted his chest. “It’s okay, Raff. It’s only a date. A super long, super amazing date. But still. We don’t have to share everything.”

His head started buzzing, his veins running hot. He felt like punching something. What the fuck? It wasn’t “only a date” to him. It never had been. He wanted so much more. What, exactly, he didn’t know yet, but he knew he wanted more of her, more time to find out how far they could take this connection between them, because he had a feeling it could be fucking incredible.

And now, apparently, she wanted him to open up and “share”. And if he ever wanted to see her again, he had a feeling that was going to have to be part of it. But, hell…if he told her some of the stuff from his past, she’d run screaming. Either way, he was fucked.

He chugged back half his beer and rapped it down on the table.

“This is delicious,” Paige continued, sipping her cocktail.

“Good,” he muttered. “Drink up.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, taking another sip.

This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. They were supposed to have a long, romantic dinner, then relax in this beautiful setting for drinks overlooking the city, maybe even make out a little on the dark rooftop patio. Go back to the hotel, make out a little more and bang their brains out. Now he was irritable, impatient and edgy. He was screwing this up and he didn’t even know how.

Something had set him off. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it had been earlier when she’d turned down his offer to cancel their dinner reservation with that sexy little smile that confused him. Had he lost control then?

Maybe it had been at dinner when she’d wanted to talk about his business. Maybe it had been the look of disappointment on her face at his brief answers and change of subject. Or maybe it had been just now, when she’d said it was “only a date”.

“Are you okay, Raff?”

He looked at her. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. He rubbed his face. “I don’t know why but I’m in a mood right now.”

“Did…I do something?”

He saw the shadows in her eyes, sensed the way she drew back. “Fuck no. Why would you say that?”

She dropped her gaze and shrugged. “Just asking.”

He had to get it together. “I’m sorry.” The words sounded stiff. “Maybe we should go.”

“Sure.” She set her drink down.

“Finish your drink.”

“It’s okay.”

“I gotta pay the tab anyway. Finish your drink.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended and she flinched a little beside him.

Shit.

“I’m fucking this all up,” he said, voice low and rough. “Paige. Everything was going so well. Earlier…when we kissed…you wanted me too.”

She picked up her drink and sipped it again without looking at him. “Yes.”

“What do you want from me?” Fuck, that had to be the stupidest question he’d ever asked.

She gave him a sideways glance. “I don’t want anything from you, Raff. I never have.”

That was an icicle stabbing him in the chest.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” she said, her tone light and casual. “We both want to have sex. Let’s just go do it.”

The icicle twisted in deeper. Colder. But red-hot heat spread out from his chest. “And then what?”

She gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He growled with frustration. “And then we get up in the morning and have breakfast and fly back to Chicago…and then what?”

“Raff. You said one date.”

“You know I want more than that.”

Her face went serious. “But you said…”

Fuck fuck fuck. She didn’t trust him now. It was all he wanted from her—trust. But why would she believe that? He’d been trying to show her all weekend that he could be trusted, but he was painfully aware that he would do anything to have her. Which meant he hadn’t exactly lied…but he hadn’t exactly been truthful either. Yeah, he’d said one date. But it wasn’t going to end there. No fucking way. She’d been into that game. She knew exactly what was going on.

He thrust his credit card at the waitress when she reappeared asking if they wanted another drink. Soon the bill was paid and they were on their way out. He drove back to the hotel too fast, both of them saying nothing.

Inside the suite, he kicked the door shut behind them, strode into the living area and tossed the keycard onto the dining table.

“Raff. You’re scaring me.”

He turned, frowning. “What?”

“You drove so fast on the way back I was afraid you were going to crash the car. Now you stomp in here and throw down the key. You’re scaring me.”

He closed his eyes. “Paige. I would never hurt you. Seriously. Trust me on that at least.”

She stopped at one of the dining chairs and curled her fingers around the back of it “You’re so intense.”

“Yeah, I am. I guess this is part of getting to know me. The good, the bad and the moody.” He gave a wry smile. “I’m not a good loser.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What exactly are you losing at?”

He paused. “Making you trust me.”

He watched her face, watched her eyes flicker, her mouth soften, the corners tipping up the faintest bit. “Is it that important to you that I trust you?”

“Hell yeah.” He looked away from her, then back. Was this what it took? Putting himself out there?

She’d admitted she wanted to have sex. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted all along? Why was he so pissed off? He should be stripping her out of that dress and tossing her on the bed. But if he did that…if they fucked…and he couldn’t have anything more than that…was that enough for him?