The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter
Seven
Her warm, chocolate brown eyes lifted to meet mine at my compliment. With her body wrapped in a tight ball, the skirt of her black dress tucked tight to protect her modesty, clean of makeup and her silky brown hair falling past her shoulders, I doubt she had changed much since she had first met Robert. I was looking at a vastly different woman before me than the cold, controlled woman I had witnessed at breakfast just that morning.
This woman was totally my type. Soft, slightly vulnerable, natural, and fucking gorgeous.
Taking her empty glass from her hand I leant over to grab the bottle of whiskey I had brought through to the sitting room during the last refill. I poured a generous measure before returning the cut crystal tumbler to her.
“I shouldn’t,” she murmured while clasping it between her two hands. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Just sip it slowly, no more tipping it back. Or put it aside. There’s no need to drink it if you think you’ve had enough.”
“I feel like I earned a drink today. I’ll be back to real life soon enough.” Tori’s lips tipped up in a small smile, like the idea of whatever awaited her appealed very much indeed.
“Where’s home?” I queried.
“Shut up,” she replied, albeit with a little smirk this time.
“Seriously? Knowing where you live is intrusive.” God, this woman was a mystery wrapped in secrets.
Tori switched the conversation to me. Subtle shift in the conversation? Not. I explained that I was living at the hotel temporarily while renovations were being made to my home. She soon had me showing her photos on my phone of the work in progress, seeing the underground garage that was being installed, and the totally revamped main floor with the extension into the back garden bringing light and clean, modern lines into the new basement kitchen and the extended living areas.
She swivelled her body and slid closer to me to better see the photos, and the warmth and scent of her was far more enticing than talking about how builders went about installing a basement space in an already existing home. Or the necessity of multiple steel ‘I’ beams to support the structure in its new identity.
We looked up from the phone simultaneously, our faces only inches apart. Long, dark lashes blinked over those mesmerising eyes of hers, and I was overcome by a surge of lust that I had successfully held at bay for the past couple of hours.
“Please tell me you feel it too.” My voice had dropped low, as desire zipped through my veins. I felt the gentle huff of air as she caught her breath, eyes still locked with mine.
But she played her cards tight right to the end.
“Feel what?” The tip of Tori’s tongue came out, wetting her lower lip and I almost groaned aloud. I couldn’t tell if this was all an act, like her ice maiden one of before was, or if she really was as innocent as she was coming across.
“This,” I stated, and ran my index finger up her inner arm and watched a trail of goosebumps follow in its wake.
“Tell me you feel it too,” I repeated, and continued, “this undeniable attraction.”