Wish - Page 47

“Does stuff ever make you happy?” I wonder.

“Never.”

“Then why do all this? Why try to give people islands and cars and money if you know it won’t make them happy?”

“Not everyone wishes for shallow, material things. Some get it. They understand what makes a life worth living. For those people, I’m giving them a chance to live their dreams and hopefully make a difference in the lives they touch. For the others, well, I guess, in my own way, I’m trying to save them. They get money or they live like royalty, but when the excitement fades, it’s up to them to take a good hard look in the mirror.” He shrugs. “Most do. Some don’t.”

I stare up into those vivid blue eyes, thinking how incredibly insane and brilliant he is. I love how he sees the world, because he’s right. I think it’s something I learned at a young age. Once my mom bought me a new coat, and it made me happy for about two seconds until the newness wore off. But when I gave my coat away to Olivia, whose mom was also on a tight budget, I felt good every time I saw her wearing it. I’m not saying that I reject all materialism and don’t enjoy or want nice things. I definitely do. I love beautiful art and living in a nice house. I definitely wouldn’t mind having more vacations or traveling the world. I simply know that these things don’t define me. My actions do.

“So all of these items are your tools of the trade,” I conclude.

“Well, I won’t lie. I do keep a few toys of my own hidden around here. There’s a helicopter out back. Maybe two.”

“Expensive toys.” I smile. “Anything else you like playing with?”

He steps closer and closes the gap. My heart races. I can smell the subtle notes of his cologne mixing with the heat of his skin. My nipples harden in response to being so close. He’s dangerously addictive.

He cups my cheek with a warm hand. “Did you know that you’re the first person I’ve ever met who didn’t want anything from me?”

“That’s not entirely true.” I stare at his sensual lips.

“Good. Because you’re also the first woman who’s made me want more than I deserve.” He dips his head and presses his soft lips to my mouth. His breath is delicious and minty. His chest is warm and hard in all the right places.

I throw my arms around his neck and open the floodgates. I want him. I want to know who this smart, gorgeous, eccentric man really is. I want to forgive him for who he used to be and accept him for who he is today.

He snakes an arm around the small of my back and pulls me flush with his tall frame before dipping me back to deepen the kiss.

The confidence and raw masculinity are an aphrodisiac. I reach for his tie and begin undoing it.

“No.” He pulls away, almost dropping me. “No undressing. No sex.”

My face flushes. Jesus, he’s rejecting me. I scared him off by being too aggressive.

“Trust me,” he says, likely noting the expression on my face. “I want you. But I want to be sure I’m right for you. The life I live is part of who I am. It won’t ever change.”

That’s a lot to chew on. The truth is, for my own sanity, I need to be independent. “I don’t mind if you do your thing. I find it inspiring. But I won’t ever want to live off of you or accept money or anything like that. I want a partner not a sugar daddy.”

“Why did you have to go and say that?” There’s an edge to his voice.

“It’s the truth.”

“Fucking hell, Ginnie.”

I think I’ve upset him somehow, but I don’t know why. I just know I don’t want to ruin this. But I also want honesty. I want real. I want him.

“How do you always manage to cut right through me?” He pulls me to him again, and I gasp right before his lips crash into mine. The kiss is raw and needy. I feel its effect deep in my bones. The heat and arousal instantly hit my core.

He catches the hem of my sweater and jerks it up over my head, his hands trailing down my neck to my breasts and my waist.

I feel my protective walls melt away, giving in to my desire. Everything inside me is lighting up in a way that’s never happened before. It’s him. It’s our connection.

He slides down my leggings, and I help by stepping on the heels of my tennis shoes to remove everything. Now I’m naked. Completely naked.

He stops kissing me to step back and look me over. My skin erupts in goose bumps, but not from the cold air. Everything about him turns me on, but most of all, it’s his infallible inner strength. He radiates it. Like that fiery cloud from my dream.

Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Romance
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