"Let me buy you a drink." I gesture to the bartender, wondering why the bloody hell I'm suggesting she consume more alcohol. I should walk away and leave the lass alone. Instead, I tell her, "In the name of neighborliness and all."
She stares blankly at me.
I pick up her snifter and swirl the amber liquid inside it.
Erica cants her head, observing me with the confused curiosity of someone who's encountered a strange new species of animal for the first time.
All of her, even her confusion, bewitches me.
I feign disgust at her choice of liquor, wrinkling my nose. "Brandy? That's a bairn's drink." I set the glass on the bar. "You're in a club. Have a real drink with me."
Erica leans that body against the bar, rolling her shoulders back. Her breasts bounce a little, enough to make my breath hitch and my cock jerk.
"Sure," she says. "What did you have in mind?"
If only she knew the real answer, the one I don't dare speak, she would run out the door as fast as her shapely legs can carry her.
Dirty old man, Lachlan, for certain.
Chapter Two
I smile at Erica, fair certain all my inhibitions and good sense have flown oot the windae along with my bum. I may not be speaking nonsense, not just yet, but I seem to have lost my ability to make sound judgment calls. If I were still rational, I'd take us both home in a cab and say good night at her doorstep. Instead, I'm suggesting she drink another cocktail.
The bartender approaches, and I order two glasses of whisky just as the music crescendoes. The man nods and walks away to get our drinks. As the music winds down, it segues into a quieter song with a lulling melody.
Erica rocks her hips to the tempo of the music, her shoulders swaying too, the fabric of her dress shimmying along with her body.
I can't resist sliding my gaze over her from head to toe, admiring her figure from those creamy shoulders down to her slender ankles. Every inch of her is bonnie and sexy and enough to make me want to do things to her I shouldn't be thinking about, much less doing.
She notices my attention and lifts a hand to her throat, as if she's as aroused as I am. Her pupils have enlarged, turning her irises a darker shade of hazel, the green flecks in them seeming more intense. I've never seen anything as beautiful as this woman, and I've never felt such intense lust in my life.
The bartender brings us two glasses of whisky. I toss mine back in one gulp. The burn of the whisky doesn't erase my hunger for her or even dull it, and the fire in my veins has nothing to do with alcohol.
Erica lifts her glass to her lips. She hesitates, sniffing like she's unsure of what she's about to drink. Then the lass takes a deep breath and tosses back the whisky. For a second or two, she freezes as if she's shocked—in a good way or a bad way, I have no idea. She sputters, coughs, and wheezes. Her legs wobble a wee bit, but she locks her knees to stay upright. Her gaze has gone glossy, though I don't think it's from desire.
The whisky has hit her hard.
Erica's lips part, forming a dreamy smile.
"Another," she shouts to the bartender. Within seconds, she's tossing back another finger of whisky, then she slaps her glass down on the bar. "Another."
I should intervene, shouldn't I? Though I don't know Erica, I can't let her get jaked.
When the bartender returns, I wave him away. "The lady's done for the night."
The bartender leaves.
Erica frowns at me. "What'd you do that for?"
She doesn't sound drunk, but she's acting that way.
I pluck the glass from her hand. "Don't drink much, do you?"
"So?"
I grasp her upper arms, her skin soft and cool against my palms, which have grown warm. "Best take it easy, then. Whisky's potent, and one glass has clearly done a number on you."
"I drank whisky?"