That lasted all of a second before she jerked her attention away and fumbled for a gulp of her drink.
All coy and shy as she put me off, inciting that need inside me to reach out and make her mine.
Grabbing my glass, I sauntered her way, hand stuffed into my tux pocket as I slipped into the stool next to her.
She stiffened, awareness floating from her like a hot breeze.
I fully swiveled her direction, sitting sideways with one elbow resting on the bar and the other on the back of the stool as I leaned back and blatantly took her in.
The girl was so gorgeous she somehow managed to make my insides quake.
I was having a bitch of a time stopping myself from leaning in and pressing my nose to her neck, right at that delicious sweet spot at the back of her ear. From sliding the tips of my fingers up the silky flesh exposed by that dress, taken over by the overpowering urge to get lost in those long, long legs.
“Having fun?” I asked, voice rough, grating with all the visions of what I wanted to do to her.
Her head barely shook. “I’d rather be left alone, if you don’t mind.”
“Hmm . . . looks to me like you could use some company.”
She released an incredulous sound, and she shifted to look my direction, a flash of that icy fire in her eyes.
God, she was pretty.
The kind of pretty that struck you somewhere deep.
I knew well enough that beauty like that was only surface.
“Just don’t,” she hissed.
My brow lifted in amusement. “Don’t what?”
“Oh, please, you think I can’t mimic some variation of exactly what you were gettin’ ready to say? I’m not naïve. Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.”
Humor ridged my mouth at the same time as it was watering with the sound of her voice.
Southern and sweet and somehow bitter to the bone.
Hard and mad was exactly my thing.
“And what’s that?”
A scowl knitted up her forehead. “‘What’s your sign?’ Or was it going to be something along the line of ‘what is a girl like you doing in a place like this’? Or maybe you were getting ready to play it off that you knew me from somewhere. That one’s my favorite. Whatever it was gonna be, no, you can’t have my number.”
A rough chuckle rumbled around in my chest, and I moved so I could lean in closer, my head angled so I was about six inches away from her.
Which was apparently too damned close.
Because the energy coming from her hit me like a punch to the face.
Full force.
Fierce and furious.
Didn’t help that she smelled delicious.
Like a plump, juicy plum.
The same color as those damned lips.
Fuck me, if I didn’t want to take a bite.
“I wasn’t actually going to waste my time on a number. I’m more of an ‘in the moment kind of guy’. I figured you and I could get out of here and find something a little more . . . interesting to do. You look as bored as I am.” My voice lowered, a caress at her ear. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
A shiver lifted across her skin, so alive I could feel it, before outrage rushed in to take its place.
She reared back, blinking through her offense.
“Wow.”
That was all she said.
But I could hear a slew of other insults rambling around in her mind.
I leaned in closer, knowing I was crossing a line considering I was in a place filled with my colleagues. But this girl somehow managed to make me forget all of that.
I couldn’t rationalize anything but going after what I wanted.
Right then.
In that moment.
A release.
A blissful oblivion.
A blackout.
And I wanted it with her.
I glanced down at her left hand, expecting to see a huge rock sitting on her ring finger. My dick gave a little fist pump when I found it bare.
“So, what do you say?” I asked, voice casual though I felt anything but.
This girl managed to make me feel off-kilter. Thrown from my game.
Her brow lifted and her tone dipped in disbelief. “You expect me to just . . . walk out of here with you? Just like that? Just you and me in some dark corner? No numbers required because we won’t be seeing each other again? No regrets?”
The last she spat.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Besides,” I murmured, “I know exactly what a girl like you is doing in a place like this. Just like the rest of us . . . you’re here because you have to be. Because it makes you or whoever you’re with look good. You don’t have to pretend with me that you give a shit.”
Disgust rolled from her. “Who the hell are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Huffing, she pushed to standing. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter who you are because you’re the last person I’d ever want to know.”