Nope. The library. Wow, the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases and burgundy Oriental rugs seemed familiar. Hmm, where had she seen something like this before? The room had massive arched windows, and there were leather recliners with afghans draped over the arms and drink tables spaced throughout. And . . . there was another fireplace. Wow.
Dylan’s dry voice echoed behind. “We can eat tomorrow if you want to go through all the rooms. Or you can give up and just ask me where the kitchen is.”
She hated it, but was afraid she’d never find it on her own. And damn, she was hungry. Riley pursed her lips like she sucked on a lemon. “Fine. Where’s the kitchen?”
He treated her to his famous badass grin that always made her stomach do the weird flip-flop thing. “Follow me.”
Back to the foyer, and toward the left. She’d never play eeney meeney miney moe again. She sucked.
“Are you some kind of perverted hermit who wants to hole up in this dusty old place and guard his fortune? Because this is a little weird, dude. Are there servants?”
“Yes. And Mrs. Potts would be devastated to hear you call the place dusty.”
“That’s it!” she screeched. “This place reminds me of Beauty and the Beast !”
He laughed. “Still addicted to Disney movies, huh? I was only teasing. I have a maid and a cook, but you won’t find a withering rose in the east wing.”
She sniffed. “I’ll believe it when I don’t see it. And I’m not addicted to children’s stuff. That one was up for an Academy Award.”
“Sure. That’s why I always caught you watching those movies on your portable, huh?”
“At least I wasn’t watching porno.”
“Wonder who was more satisfied.”
She stuck her tongue out. His broad shoulders shook as if he knew. Why did she revert to juvenile gestures around him? She was always so calm and in control of a situation. Even in college, he was the only person who’d cause her to lose it. Sometimes mentally. Sometimes physically. Sharing the common area bathroom and seeing him half naked all the time never helped. How many times had she interrupted one of his make-out sessions? She’d make gagging noises until Dylan would grab the girl’s hand and pull her into his room, giving her the smoldering look he believed worked on everyone.
Riley hated the way her body flamed to life. Begged to be the woman in his arms. She’d been able to fight through it until that awful, horrible, wonderful moment between them.
The kiss.
This time, the memory wouldn’t be denied.
Senior year. They’d been doing their usual. Arguing about something; hell, she couldn’t even remember what it was. One minute they were engaged in a lively argument, the next he pushed her against the wall and kissed her. She never even paused or thought to deny him. Riley kissed him back like she was starving.
She still remembered every sensation, from the scent of cinnamon on his breath, the warmth of his lips skating over hers, the hot, wet thrust of his tongue as it breached her barriers and sunk deep inside. She had no time to think or plan. Instead, her body roared forward and overtook, falling into the kiss full steam, savoring his taste and his hunger, the feel of his hands gripping her waist, holding her still for his pleasure. God how she loved it, the feeling of being out of control yet safe, and for those rocketing moments, nothing existed but Dylan McCray.
Afterward, they didn’t even speak. He pulled away, gazed into her eyes, and turned on his heel to walk away. They never discussed the kiss, and sometimes Riley wondered if it had just been a dream. Except she remembered every scorching detail, even ten years later.
She’d lost her virginity with her high school boyfriend, had three affairs, and nothing compared to those few minutes of passion in his arms.
Of course, he’d never remember.
Of course, he’d never know her true feelings about the strength of that kiss.
Riley slammed into his back. He spun around and caught her by the shoulders. “You okay?”
So stupid. No more daydreaming about a ridiculous kiss from college. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just hungry.”
“Then let’s get you fed.”
He walked into the kitchen and she almost had an orgasm. Almost.
She loved to cook. Found it a respite from stress, and adored a good plate of food. Her home was small, but she’d created a haven for her baking hobby, even though most of the times she ate by herself.
But Dylan’s kitchen was a gourmet fantasy come true.
Stainless steel everywhere. A Sub-Zero refrigerator. A Wolf oven. A brick oven for pizzas, cappuccino makers, high-grade food processors, with actual copper pots dangling from some crazy gadget over the kitchen island. Endless granite counters, three sinks, and a four-tier spice rack. The room was done in pure black and white with pops of red.
Riley moaned and squeezed her thighs together. Oh, God, the appliances were beautiful. The things she could do here . . .
He was staring at her with fascination and something more. Hunger lit those amazing eyes, darkening the colors to a stormy blue and brown-black. “You like?” he murmured.
She swallowed as her body lit up like a damn pinball machine. She pulled herself together. “I have a thing for stainless steel.”
Those full lips twisted in a half smile. “So it’s my kitchen you’re lusting after? Pity.”
Riley rolled her eyes but turned away so he couldn’t spot the truth. “Get over yourself. Wasn’t nailing my roommate enough? She left the next semester and I got stuck with Smelly Sally for the rest of the year.”
Dylan refilled her wineglass and began pulling out ingredients from the refrigerator. She perched on one of the red stools by the island. “Pris knew the deal. Come on, we dated like twice and she said she was in love with me. I never led her on.”
Riley snorted. “So that makes it right? You broke her heart and she left to go to another dorm. I told her not to go out with you!”
He lined up the post-Thanksgiving meal with freshly cut turkey, large slices of rye bread, and an assortment of condiments. She watched his graceful fingers put together the sandwiches and tried not to think of the other talented things they could do. He was dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a white cable-knit sweater. The material highlighted the blond in his hair, and made him look like some mythical Thor from above. His sexiness made her crankier. No one should look like that. It tipped the favor to the male species.
She drank more wine.
“You were always a bit obsessed with my dating life,” he commented, pulling down two plates. “Or was it my sex life?”
“Just trying to protect the innocent from an expert man whore.”
He chuckled and grabbed a jar of pickles. “First time I heard women need protecting from orgasms.”
She tilted her head. “Cocky, huh?”
He grinned. “No. Just honest.”
Riley refused to let her girly parts go all aquiver. “Or delusional,” she muttered.
His eyes lit with amusement. The man was infuriating. “So, tell me what really drove you to Kinnections?”
The wine loosened her tongue. Why hide the truth? She wasn’t ashamed. “I want to get married.”
His brow shot up. “We didn’t even have our blind date yet.”
“Not you. Kate was supposed to find me my perfect match. I have a detailed list of requirements, and I’m ready to settle down.” She prepped herself for his teasing, but he seemed to be thinking over her statement.
“Why now?”
“It’s time,” she said simply. “I spent the first half of my life focused on my goals and career and I don’t regret it. I gave up things, some opportunities that may have led to marriage and a family. I refuse to have regrets but my priorities shifted. I want a husband. Children.”