Page 54 of To Tango, with Desire

I glanced at the chocolate orange mousse that had just been served. It looked as light as air and perfectly plated. But I couldn’t appreciate it or the delicate figs and sorbet drops that surrounded it. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything except Amira’s soft mouth, opened in shock.

What I would do to that mouth.

“But, you’re a billionaire wanting a wife. You’re Lebanese. You must want kids.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself of this?”

“No—I just—”

“In our parents’ minds, it’s considered a crime to not want a family.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“But you’re an individual, as am I. I don’t want kids to fulfill some cultural or familial obligation. No child should come into the world unwanted.”

“I agree.”

I shrugged. “Good.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“No. Not having children isn’t a dealbreaker for me, Amira. And I respect that you know your own mind and body. I’m not here to change anything about you.” I could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. “Whatever you’re overthinking, either stop thinking it or share it with me. But this dessert doesn’t deserve your scowling judgment.”

Her expression cleared, the frown disappearing. “Why me? Of all the people in the world?”

“Because ever since the night we met, I’ve not stopped thinking about you. I want you, Amira. All to myself. I’ve learned when it comes to you, I don’t like to share. You consume my thoughts and I can’t seem to do a day of honest work without craving you.” I watched the soft tip of her tongue stroke her lips. I wanted her with an intensity that shook me. “I dream about the day I can take you, in my bed, as my wife. I’d do it tomorrow if I could.”

When she bit her lip, I looked away. I fucking had to or I’d explode.

“I thought you were trying to become a patient man.”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants.”

I looked back at her, at her unreadable expression, and felt a stab of panic. Try as I might to look away, I couldn’t. I was spellbound. Mesmerized. Every sigh, every shift of her body had me captivated.

When she picked up a spoon, dipping it into the soft mousse, moaning in appreciation, my cock twitched.

“I remember that sound well.”

A small smile played at her lips. “You’re not allowed to say these things.”

“Why not?”

“We’re in public.” She motioned to the other people in the restaurant.

“And what I want to do to you will remain very private.”

A soft rose hue stained her cheeks.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

She lifted one shoulder. “We’ll see.”

By the time I paid for the meal, I was harder than granite. We walked to the lift, and the smell of her perfume wrapped around me, tantalizing and sweet.

I wanted her beneath me. To feast on those heavy breasts, to take the nipples that strained through her dress and savor them, rolling the heavy peaks in my mouth, making her shudder and moan. She was irresistible. Sexy. Intoxicating.