French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,12
skin was aware of him, and he wasn’t even touching me. What would happen if we were naked?
I pressed my temples then squeezed the bridge of my nose, glancing away to get myself under control. “I’m not sure we should stop.”
He patted my knee, like I was a child. “So, you’re not hungry?”
Work. Until recently, data analysis meant I was surrounded by men in that factory. I knew better than to let my libido too much liberty, but desire diminished too, without food in my belly.
I fixed my collar to give my hands something to do.
Maybe my sisters might be right about me. Back home I’m wound too tight, trying to be perfect. I’m a middle child and perfection is what I do. Time to get out of character was what everyone said I needed. And once I realized they might be right, I met his gaze a little clearer and said, “I… it’s getting dark, and I’m hungry. Is there anything near us? Do I need to search online?”
“The sign said there are hotels at the next stop.” He pointed to the road.
I relaxed in my seat and then glanced around as we left the highway.
No big chain name hotels were waiting. Quentin had no issues following the hotel sign, and two minutes later he headed into what looked like a vineyard.
At the end of the small side road, there was a rather large house. Was this a hotel? He parked like it was, so I squared my shoulders to be confident as my feet pressed against the gravel of the parking lot. “I’m paying for the rooms.”
He grabbed the bags out of the back and carried them toward the door. “Nice try, Kara.”
His accent was almost British more than American sometimes, but my name was absolutely French and made me sigh with satisfaction. We headed for the door, and he held it open for me, though he had our two bags, when my phone beeped.
We walked to an empty desk that would be more suited for an office where he put the bags down. “Who’s texting you?”
My sisters knew the charges were pricy for Europe, and they called me on my app that had a completely different tone. So, I knew from the beep it wasn’t family, and I rolled from my toes to my heels. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not paying the charges to read it.”
He held his hand out like I’d give him my phone.
I glanced at the door where the porch light came on. Someone must be coming, and as I looked behind me at Quentin, I reached in my rear pocket for my phone. Quentin squinted at the screen. “Is Marlon your ex?”
I read the missed call screen before shoving it back in my pocket. “How did you guess?”
“Your reaction.” He motioned toward the lights coming on which probably meant someone was coming. “This is the hotel and vineyard.”
“Together?” I asked, though I understood from being outside that the smell in the air was grapes.
A pretty blonde woman with a wedding ring on her finger came over and said, “The vineyard has rooms to lend for the night.”
He took out his credit card. “Two rooms.”
So, it was just me that wanted this to be more, despite what he’d said at the museum. Probably for the best, as I know I wasn’t in my calm and controlled mindset.
A fling with Quentin made my mouth water with hope of discovering exactly what made sex so tempting.
I should call my sisters and get them to talk me back to being myself—data manager of a wine bottle factory, at least until recently, but normally I steered my team to success.
Maybe that’s why now that I’m out of touch, I want to do way more.
Or it was just how Quentin placed his hand on my lower back like I belonged to him? I said to the woman, “Your inn is super charming. I’ve never stayed on a vineyard.”
The innkeeper handed back Quentin’s card. “Let’s check you in, and you can both get a lovely dinner before it gets too dark.”
The room numbers matched. I quickly shook my head and took out my card to pay my own way. The inn keeper accepted and rang up my room separately.
Good. At least I had some control.
I took my receipt and walked with him to our rooms. He hadn’t said a word in a while, so I said, “You’re serious tonight, Quentin.”
He gave me a quizzical gaze. “Never mind me. Meet you in