‘What brings you to the Bay?’
He hesitates a moment. ‘I thought I was asking the questions.’
‘Have I hit on something you don’t want to talk about?’ He keeps his fingers where they are but shifts them from side to side, stroking the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. I bite down on my lip to mute a groan.
‘Not particularly.’ A lift of his broad shoulders. My instincts tell me he’s not being completely honest but I don’t particularly care. Whatever this guy’s business is, he has a right to keep it private. I’ve already said more to him than I have the last three guys I slept with combined.
‘You’re cryptic.’
He grins. ‘I can be.’
‘Do we know each other well enough yet?’
Another frown. Jesus. I don’t usually have to push a guy into bed. This is a new experience for me. I contemplate walking away from him, but I feel both fascinated by and invested in him.
‘For what, Avery?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Come home with me.’
He leans closer, his hand stays where it is. ‘You mean, come home and fuck you?’
I nod slowly. ‘Unless you don’t want to?’
His eyes hold mine and my breath hitches in my throat. I feel as though he’s going to say no. Like he might stand up and end this. And I really, really don’t want him to.
‘Barrett?’
CHAPTER TWO
HER EYES ARE a dark shade of brown, almost black, and they’re duelling with mine, challenging me, daring me to say yes, or perhaps to say no. I speak four languages fluently and I mentally use every curse word from each now, letting them fire through my brain as I wage an internal battle—between what I know I should do and what I want, more than anything.
I want to fuck her.
I felt like I was being slammed in the gut the moment I saw her, even before I had time to compute that it was, in fact, Avery Maxwell.
And if she were any other woman I’d have slid her G-string from her legs by now and given her at least one orgasm, right here against the bar of this nightclub.
But Avery Maxwell is my friends’ sister. That makes her off-limits, doesn’t it? I mean, the bro code still applies even when they’ve technically never met, right?
Or does it?
Isn’t that some kind of patriarchal bullshit right there? To treat her with kid gloves because she happens to be a blood relative of some guys I really care about. What’s my obligation here? They want to know everything they can about her, and it’s pretty clear to me that I’m only going to find that out if I can contrive a way to spend more time with her. Sex ticks that box.
But it’s more than that. I want her and she wants me. We’re two consenting adults. I wouldn’t be using tha
t sexual attraction to find out what the Harts need to know, but it sure as hell won’t hurt.
‘Seriously?’
The look of confusion on her face tells me that she’s probably never been rejected once in her life—and that’s completely understandable. She’s beautiful but it’s more than that. She’s alluring and whip-smart, and not afraid to show it. There’s also a latent sensuality that makes me want to strip that dress from her body and claim her right here.
Fuck.
‘Let me put it this way,’ she murmurs, and she shifts on her stool so my hand, resting high on her inner thigh, is driven the rest of the distance. My fingertips brush against lacy underwear; she’s warm and wet.
My cock jerks against my pants.
‘I want to sleep with you.’ Closer still and without my permission, my fingers begin to move, sliding aside the fine fabric of her underpants, parting her slick sex and pushing against her so her eyes lift heavenward and she expels a faint moan. ‘I want you to come home and fuck me, and if it’s good then I’ll want you to fuck me again, and then I’ll want you to get dressed and go away.’