Santa Fe Billionaire

Chapter 14

Ava

Oh. My. God. He is coming towards me. I can't swallow the piece of cake in my throat. I am hoping he didn't see me being a total clutz and dropping my fork on the floor. I try not to look at him but my eyes are not paying any attention to my mind as they continue to stare into his gorgeous tiger eyes. I then realise that I have cake falling out of my mouth. Great! Time to pull my jaw up from the ground. Mental note: remember you don't like this arrogant s.o.b. I wish my lower regions would kind of remember that, only everything has started to ignite with fire and I can feel myself becoming aroused. I narrow my eyes like he is some kind of panther stalking me. I earnestly keep reminding myself not to be nice to him.

"Good morning." Right well with a smooth as silk voice like that, it is pretty difficult. I just nod. Then open my mouth. 

"Not you again." He stops in his tracks. He is close to where I am sitting, it's almost as if life has gone into slow motion. I am oblivious to the other people on the terrace enjoying their breakfast and morning coffees. I don't pay any attention to the little ones running around excited to be away from their usual routines, or the couple on the next table who are looking into each other's eyes as if they are newlyweds. I don't pay any attention to Mabel and her husband who have the broadest smiles on their faces you could ever imagine. I pay no attention to the gentle song of the birds as they flitter around above or the waiter hovering by waiting to fill my cup up. Again! 

I only see the man in front of me . His broad shoulders, the tattoos creeping up his arms and the way his hair sits tousled on his head. It's the kind of hair I want to run my fingers through and feel his sweet kisses on my neck and whispering sweet nothings into my ear. 

"Are you stalking me?" He says nothing. His luscious full lips curl upwards at the corners. "Clearly I am highly amusing." I beckon the loitering waiter for more coffee. Yes I know. It's my fourth cup in about thirty minutes. Well who's counting? I'm certainly not. 

"I can tell you have a good humor, American Girl." Great so now he already has some kind of nickname for me. Not very original I have to say. The fragrance he is wearing envelops me, its a mix of cinnamon and citrus. I breathe in deeply to inhale it some more. 

"What do you want?" I know I sound rude even though my insides are all a flutter, every nerve feels like it is on some kind of drug. My heart is pounding, I actually place my left hand on my chest to make sure it doesn't escape from my body. His eyes are now twinkling, I can see I am amusing him. 

"Can you just go away." 

"That is not very polite." He pulls a chair out. "May I?" I am surprised this conceited arrogant man has even bothered to ask. 

"Not really. But I suppose you're going to." I cross both my hands defensively in front of my chest. Up close I can see how soft his skin is, the coloring like milk chocolate. I almost want to lick his face. Right that is enough I need to get a grip of myself. I am pretty sure he has enough girls fawning over his super good looks. I am not prepared to be another notch on his bedpost. That is for sure. 

"If it offends you, no. I can go." I watch incredulously as he begins to push the chair back towards the table. I am not sure I want him to leave, I'm not quite done smelling him and being intoxicated by his scent. As much as I want to push him away and trust me, I really do. The other part of me wants to pull his head into me and bury his face into my pussy. This is obscene especially for me. I have never had such prolific thoughts before. Certainly never with Mark. We were easy going, steady, tame almost. Don't get me wrong he rocked my world but sex was never like hanging off the chandeliers type of sex. It was never like it is portrayed in my steamy romance novels. This man, however, in front of me now dithering whether to stay or to go, I can only imagine gives it to a girl exactly like one of those super-charged-hot book boyfriends. I feel myself moisten just at the thought of his head being buried between my legs. 

I cross my legs over one another and squeeze tight. This is definitely so not me. I feel myself reddening, I know for sure that I am blushing. He must sense it. Don't we give off all those pheromones that indicate we are ready and waiting? Take me. Take me now. Actually I ought to slap myself right now. I even cross my arms tighter over my chest. 

I bite my lower lip. I watch as he watches, his eyes are intense. The waiter comes back and maneuvers his way around the man in front of me. Discreetly he pours me more coffee and disappears. 

I am not sure what to do. Zoe's voice peeks inside my head. "Go for it girl. Get the man, shag his brains out then leave him. Live that life Ava and get over Mark." Will getting it together with this man really get me over Mark? I can't just eradicate a five year relationship. It still hurts, I am scarred and it will take time. Although my body is lying to my brain, it really isn't following along. It says get him between your legs, my mind says tell him to go away. Torn see. Totally, absolutely torn. 

I am in trouble

So much big trouble

"What exactly do you want?" 

"Can I sit now?" He smiles, his eyes ignite me.

"No just spit it out and then piss off." I squeeze my legs even tighter since the way he is looking at me and his closeness has got me right on the cusp of soaking my panties. I truly wish I could swap my body out and have one that does as my mind tells it. Not this deceitful one. 

"I would like to ask you to dinner. I know of a romantic place. It is higher up in the mountain and will also be cooler. We can dine with candlelight on the terrace, enjoy traditional Spanish music and watch the flamenco dancers. Would you care to join me this evening?" 

I want to say no, only he has kind of got me with the whole flamenco dancers and candlelight. Does that make me fickle? I don't even really like this guy but what damage could a dinner do? Maybe I should shoo him away and tell him to move on. I just can't do it. Now I'm mind-trapped. What if this could be something amazing and special for the week that I am here? What if I am preventing myself from feeling anything other than extraordinary. You only have to look at him with his dark floppy hair, intense tiger eyes, a body that is built for passion; to know that he would take you to the top and bring you to a climax you can only dream and read about. 

Oh. Fuck. I am torturing myself. What shall I do?