Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,61
was going on and who was messing with them. Because a man like Branden was way out of her league. She needed to keep her emotions in check—because if she didn’t, she’d get hurt. And badly. She’d never experienced heartbreak, but she’d held Iris’s hands plenty of times as her friend had cried over boyfriends who’d moved on. But even as she gave herself mental warnings, a part of her wondered if maybe it was already too late.
Because these feelings she was having—missing Branden’s scent when she hadn’t seen him for several hours, experiencing the rush of tingles in her belly when she remembered the sensation of his cock entering her, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his sisters…all these feelings were real. And deep. And maybe even more than just a crush.
“What are you thinking about?” Branden asked her.
She glanced at him. She couldn’t tell him the truth…that she was wondering if she was falling in love with him, but lying wasn’t an option. Stick with the truth, she told herself, even though it might just be a partial truth. “I was just thinking that this is nice, sitting here with you.”
“It is nice,” he said. “So you’re not worrying about how that illegal email ended up coming from your email address?”
She made a face. “I’ll have to worry about it sooner or later, but I don’t want to think about it tonight.”
Wiggling his eyebrows, he said, “Then maybe we should come up with an activity to keep your mind and body occupied.”
He’d already fulfilled plenty of her fantasies in the kitchen. Playing dumb, she said, “Like club dancing?”
He gave her a cock-eyed look. “You like to go dancing?”
“Actually, yes. It’s a good stress reliever. I just dance like nobody’s watching.”
His expression shifted from cheerfully dubious to impressed. “Let’s go then,” he said, sitting up suddenly and spilling her feet from his lap.
“What, now?”
“Why not? It’s Friday night, and we live in the city that never sleeps. Plus, I have a cool sports car you haven’t even ridden in yet.”
Cara grinned. “It does sound like fun.”
“Did you bring dancing clothes with you when you packed?”
“I threw a dress or two into my suitcase. Just in case.”
“Perfect. How long do you need to get ready?”
Not long, it turned out. She picked out a black cocktail dress with a layer of sky-blue lace that peeked out around the neckline and then again along the hem that ended just above her knees. She had a pair of four-inch heels that matched the lace and a bag that would work well.
She brushed out her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders, and applied a light layer of foundation and powder before lining her eyes with a soft blue crayon. Her final touch was a layer of mascara and a shiny pink lip gloss. Satisfied, she went to find Branden. As she passed the large walk-in closet that was bigger than most people’s apartments, she heard a long, low wolf whistle. She turned and saw him standing there in the doorway of the closet.
“Damn, you look hot,” he said.
“Thank you. You look pretty hot yourself.” He had on a soft-looking pair of black trousers and a short-sleeved blue silk button-down. His hair was stylishly mussed and Cara thought he looked so good that she might reconsider and take him up on changing his mind about going out.
Branden called the valet, and when they got downstairs, the blue Maserati with the racing stripes was waiting for them. The valet left it running and held open Cara’s door. Cara slid inside.
Immediately, she realized what the phrase “soft as butter” was referring to. She’d never seen or felt anything like the car’s leather seats. The dash was filled with all the latest buttons and gadgets. Branden drove carefully and obeyed all the speed laws, but just the sound of the car and the vibration of its powerful motor sent little tingles of pleasure through her body. She suddenly realized that in spite of all the chaos that had invaded her life lately, she was happy.
They only drove a few minutes before arriving at their destination. It was a private club on the Street, one that charged a monthly fee. Cara had heard all about it from executives at D&M, but she’d never been there.
When they walked inside, the large airy room had bright red carpeting and a cherrywood bar with an etched gold mirror behind it. Tall stools with soft, puffy seats surrounded