Then I press my fingers to my eyelids.
That did not happen.Please tell me I did not flirt with Drew Carrington.
I’ve always had a low tolerance to alcohol, so I should’ve stuck to one glass.Instead, I downed the first one because of nerves and didn’t realize I was sipping as fast as I was while enjoying all the auction pieces and his conversation.
Tropical vacations in luxury resorts, diamonds bigger than my knuckles, private jets...and he seemed to swipe on them all.
I should have said nothing.
But...champagne.
Anthony and I only attended a few, and we certainly only made the minimum expected donation.Being here with Drew is an eye opener.And I don’t mean his wealth.It’s the way his confident shoulders are set, the ease with which he carries himself.
It’s intoxicating.
I’ve never been askedis that allwhen I’m done with a lover.
I’m no prude, but this man has a sexual potency that is a little terrifying.I want his attention on me, which it is, and yet my instincts are screaming to run a mile.
Not just because we are in business together...I think he would eat me alive.Tonight I seem to be giving away the attraction I have had for him in the past few weeks, and I know tomorrow I’ll wake up and kick myself.
No more champagne.
Still, I want to know.Was Drew hinting at us having sex?Or simply toying with me?
I want him to toy with me.
God!I never should have agreed to come tonight.The dress.The shoes.The entire thing feels...
Seductive.
Flushing, I step out and wash my hands, taking in my reflection in the mirror.My cheeks are pink, my lips are too red, and my eyes glossy.
I look wanton, sexual, free.
This is not who I am.
I’m Zoe’s mom.Anthony’s widow.A woman who needs to focus on securing a steady income stream and paying her enormous mortgage.Not flirting with the new owner of the company she was unable to keep afloat.
Ugh.
I need to remember this.
Drew is a man who just blatantly admitted he only ever wants sex and has an array of women he’s pleasured in his wake.
How many women has he fucked?
My eye dips, and I stare at my hands as the water runs over them.
Does he lick their pussies?
God it’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed an orgasm that way.Is he rough, controlling, and patient while he ensures his lover comes?
Does he play a woman’s body like a fiddle, while arousal slams through her every cell, until she can barely breathe and has forgotten her name?
Does he enter her fast?
Thrust hard, taking what he wants?