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CHAPTER 5

LIZZIE

W hat. The. Fuck!

Pressing my cold hands to my hot cheeks, I leaned my elbows on the bathroom counter and tried to breathe. This was crazy! I didn’t even know this man and I practically begged him to fuck me in the middle of a crowded museum. What the hell was wrong with me?

I shook my hands out in front of me as I paced a few times in front of the mirror. I needed to get a grip.

Still, holy hell!

He was just so… so… overwhelming and sexy as fuck.

The way he kept leaning in as if he was going to kiss me. The way his fingers brushed my thigh. The feel of his breath on my neck.

And oh, my God … his hard cock against my back.

If it wasn’t for that, I would be freaking out wondering if this guy liked me or not. It was so confusing. Was this how guys felt when they said girls sent them mixed signals?

Maybe this was on me. He was obviously a very proper businessman of some sort and he did say he was very well known at the museum.

Although it didn’t bother me in the least, in fact I found it really sexy, it was obvious he was older than me. I’d guess he was at least late thirties to my twenty-two. Perhaps he didn’t want the museum staff to see him making a move on a younger woman?

Oh, my God! What if he was married?

No. No. I’d looked at his hand. Definitely no ring.

He wasn’t married so it must have been the whole propriety thing. The British were very proper. Maybe they felt differently about public displays of affection than Americans? Although to that point, I didn’t think it would be okay, even in America, to suddenly push a guy against the wall and reach down to pull out his cock so you could start sucking it.

What was wrong with me?

I didn’t even know this guy’s last name. I barely met him over an hour ago and I was already fantasizing about sucking his cock? I didn’t even like giving blowjobs!

There was just something about him that made me want to please him. No, worse… made me want him to order me to please him. Once more I had the same vision of his large hands unbuckling his belt. Although this time instead of being about to get a spanking, I was waiting submissively at his feet on my knees, with my mouth open, ready to taste his cock.

Giving myself a mental shake, I grabbed my purse and dumped the contents out onto the counter. Sifting through the random items—wallet, keys, tissues, pen, perfume, my copy of Pride and Prejudice —I searched for my lipstick. Unscrewing the cap, I leaned over to reapply. Staring into the mirror, all I could see was Richard’s hard-set features as he towered over me.

The look in his dark blue eyes. It was so intense and focused. It felt as if I was the only woman in the world. The only woman who mattered to him. It was crazy, of course. We had only just met. Yet, there was something there. I had this feeling he already knew me. Knew everything about me.

I found the idea of such an intense connection with this dark stranger both unsettling and exciting.

Running my finger under my bottom lip to fix a smudge, I studied my reflection. Pushing some items aside, I found my compact. Opening it up, I powdered my nose as I schooled myself for the evening ahead.

It’s just dinner.

Dinner.

Just dinner.

No fucking.

Do not fuck him.

No… well, maybe.

No!

He’ll think you’re a slut. A slut who fucks on the first date.

Who cares? Did you feel the size of that cock? my traitorous body asked.

No. Just dinner.

Maybe some kissing.

Yes, kissing.

Kissing is fine.

Kissing didn’t mean I wanted to tear his clothes off with my teeth and ride him like a bucking bronco. Fluffing my hair, I ran my fingers through it to work out some of the tangles.

Damn, I needed to hurry. I had already taken too long and I didn’t want him to think I was doing that in here.

Leaning over, I grabbed a few paper towels and ran them under the faucet. Taking the tip of the scrunched-up bunch, I scrubbed any bits of mud off my skin and boots.

Giving my hair one last flip, I shoved all the items back into my Brahmin purse, saving the perfume for last. I gave my neck a quick spritz, turning as there was a disgruntled yowl. Seeing the older woman scowling behind me, my shoulders rounded as I scrunched up my nose. “So sorry!” I exclaimed.

She left the ladies’ room with a muttered, “American,” under her breath.

Giving my appearance a final once-over, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

It’s just dinner.

What’s the worst that could happen?