Sea Breeze 01 - Breathe

out my name as he jerked over me several times. I loved him. There was never a doubt in my mind. But now, that we had been this close . . . Jax Stone completed me.
    Jax knocked on my door at exactly seven-thirty, and I slipped on the sexy silver heels. They fit me perfectly. He had really done his homework. I opened the door, and my heart skipped a beat. Seeing him in a black tuxedo wasn’t as beautiful as seeing him naked, but it was a close second.
    “You really should warn someone before you unleash yourself on them dressed like that,” I said with awe in my voice. It was then I realized he was staring at me—well, my body—and his gaze stopped at my feet.
    “I think I’m going to give my stylist a raise.”
    His eyes met mine, and he smiled a slow, sexy smile that didn’t help my weak knees.
    “You’re incredible,” he finally said, reaching for my hand and pulling me against him. His warm, clean smell of soap, mouth-wash, and Jax set the blood in my veins racing. Even though we had just spent the last hour together, I wanted more of him.
    His lips touched my ear. “I want to hold you, kiss you, and enjoy you in this dress right here in this room all night, but I can’t.”
    I shivered.
    “Please don’t shiver. It does something to me,” he said, against my ear again.
    I smiled. “Well, stop whispering in my ear and tracing patterns on my naked back, and I’ll stop,” I forced out through the desire clogging my throat.
    He grabbed my hand and started walking. “I have to get us around people. Now,” he said with a sense of urgency I completely understood.
    Kane stood at the door of the Bentley I’d only seen Mrs. Stone use. He nodded. “Miss White, Mr. Stone,” he said with no emotion as we stepped inside. Jax put his arm behind my back.
    “I have it on the best authority you don’t like most seafood.”
    I grinned and nodded, knowing the authority was Ms. Mary.
    “So I’m limited to two choices. This area is for the tourists—the casual, everyday tourists—but there are a few establishments harder to get into. Have you ever heard of Le Cellier?”
    I hadn’t, of course. I shook my head.
    “I’ve been there a few times. It’s good, but more important, it’s somewhere we can enjoy a meal out together and not deal with fans.”
    I let out a happy sigh and leaned back against the seat and crossed my legs. Jax cleared his throat and I looked up at him.
    “Could you try to not flash me any leg while we’re alone? I’m having a hard time with it.” His smile was strained, and I bit back a smile.
    “Sorry,” I said softly, and tucked my crossed legs back toward the seat.
    We pulled up to the establishment, and there were men waiting to open our door. Jax took my hand and walked us up to the hostess, who immediately noticed him.
    “Mr. Stone, we have your table ready. Right this way.”
    Jax was right. The other diners were not going to come ask for autographs, but they did notice him as we walked by. Several whispered, and their eyes followed him. We were seated at a table away from the main dining area, where there were no other people around us. Jax pulled my chair out for me and I sat down, glad we weren’t going to be in view of curious eyes.
    Jax grinned. “Do you read French, or should I order for you?”
    “The menu is in French?” I asked, surprised.
    He nodded. “Yes, and I know to stay away from oysters and shrimp. Are you okay with veal or lobster?”
    I wasn’t really sure what I was okay with. The nicest restaurant I’d ever been to had a menu in English and nothing cost more than fifteen dollars.
    “Just order whatever you think I’ll like.”
    He chuckled. “Okay.”
    A server appeared, and Jax ordered in French, of course.
    I watched him, mesmerized by his voice and the way the foreign words flowed from his mouth with such ease.
    He stopped. “What do you want to drink?”
    I frowned and almost hated to ask. “Do they have Coke?”
    He grinned and went back to speaking in French.
    Once we were alone again, he leaned toward me and whispered, “I ordered you lobster because I know it is good here. It also tastes nothing like shrimp or oysters.”
    Before I could reply, a Coke appeared in front of me and in front of Jax.
    He took a sip and reached out a hand toward me. I slipped my hand in his and sighed.
    “It’s hard to be near you and not be touching you in some way,” he said.
    I knew exactly what he meant. The thought should have been a happy