Rules are Made to be Broken Ch. 02

'One more glass.' I reply, sitting down on the sofa with him. I'm suddenly reluctant to leave. He smiles victoriously and tops me up. His dominant alter ego appears to have vanished as quickly as it arrived, yet he's still managing to get what he wants; mostly because I want to give it to him. I take a long sip of champagne, trying to snap myself out of a very confusing train of thought.

'This is delicious.' I say, aiming for breezy chit chat.

'It's been sitting in the fridge since I checked in -- felt too depressing to drink Champagne alone.' He shrugs, and I wonder how long he's been staying here. 'I would have made us another round of Palomas, but there's no more grapefruit juice.' He adds.

'I suppose most of the guests who stay here aren't such Tequila experts.' I smile back and he returns it,

'I'm clearly in good company though -- nobody's ever asked me to make them a Paloma before tonight.' He muses, locking me in his powerful blue gaze.

'My best friend and I spent a month in Cancun before university.' I shrug by way of explanation and he nods attentively.

'Hell of a place, right?' he asks and I nod.

'We spent most of our time there learning to drink and dance like locals, but we made time for sightseeing and beach days too, it's beautiful.' I smile and his eyes light up mischievously,

'I'm pretty sure I can rustle up some salsa music if you'd like to reminisce?' he asks shamelessly with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

'I should get dressed.' I say, determined to get back in control of the situation. I can't say I'm not tempted though; I'm already craving the feel of his hands on me again. I excuse myself back into the ensuite before I can cave in to my own unprofessionalism and when I return to ask him for help to zip up my dress he obliges politely. Though I can't help noticing the way his hands dawdle longer than necessary on my hips. And when he whispers in my ear that he much preferred un-zipping it, it takes a lot of determination to say goodnight.

'Well, if you insist on leaving, my driver can take you home.' He says casually.

'Oh, there's no need, thank you -- I've already booked a taxi.' I reply, wondering how and why he has a chauffeur at his beck and call.

He looks momentarily unhappy at my refusal, but then insists that I at least let him escort me down in the lift, so I decide to humour him.

As he presses the button for the reception lobby, his arm snakes around my waist. I raise my brows at him questioningly.

'Have to keep up appearances in public.' he shrugs. He's cocky as hell, but I make no move to stop him. Actually, I find I'm fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

As I slip into the back seat of the cab, he leans forward to lightly kiss me goodnight.

'Thank you for the drink -- it was a pleasure to meet you Mr Byron.' I smile coquettishly. He replies with his mischievous half smile and a twinkle in his sparkling blue eyes;

'Believe me Amber, the pleasure was all mine.'