“Everything between men and women is a war,” she confirmed. “I’m Kira.”
“I’m Hana. Hana S-Smith,” I improvised quickly.
Kira smirked as if she knew I was lying. She probably did. I was terrible at it.
“Well, Hana Smith. Be careful of yourself in places like this. The men here don’t just want to dance and smile at you.”
My heart rate picked up as I remembered the owner and the way his pale eyes had warmed as they looked me up and down. “No? What do they want?”
Kira finished my lips, dabbing on scarlet lipstick, and stepped away, tucking the products back into her bag.
“They want to eat you… alive.”
* * *
Back on themain floor of the club, music was playing loudly, something sinuous, with a low, thumping bass that made my belly feel strange. The dance floor was packed, moving like a writhing sea. All these people, pressing up against each other, just wanting to feel something, for one night, at least.
I turned away from the VIP at the end, where I was sure the man with the green eyes was sitting. Kira’s words in the bathroom had freaked me out. If there was anybody who’d eat me whole here, it was the man I’d met at the door. An aura of power and chaos seemed to emanate off his skin. Yep, I wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he was too much for me to handle tonight.
Instead, I went to the bar. I had my fake ID and cash and fully intended on taking the edge of what was to come. Was every woman scared before they popped their cherry? I had no idea, but after a lifetime of conditioning to be fearful of it from my mother, there was no denying my nerves.
I ordered a drink and looked around for a place to put my bag. I should probably take it to the coat check, but I hadn’t seen one, and the bar was busy, but I’d snagged a seat. I decided to hold it on my knee, seeing how wet the floor was, while I perched precariously on a bar stool.
My drink arrived, as I eyed up the single-looking men, and considered how the hell I was going to manage this. I was relaxed enough around my family, and people I knew well, but there was no denying I could be awkward as hell around new people. I didn’t always get the nuances of social interactions like other people did. I wondered if that was going to be a problem tonight. Probably, I realized, as I dipped my eyes from a stranger across the bar, looking right at me. Yeah, eye contact was a thing too. It felt far too intimate most of the time. I went to take a sip of liquid courage, just as the glass was plucked from my hand. I turned, a protest ready to spring from my lips, when I saw him.
The owner of the bar, in his hip outfit, and a plethora of sexy tattoos, standing right behind me. He set my drink to the side, out of my reach.
“I said that I wanted to be the one to buy Cinderella a drink.” His deep voice made my throat dry.
“I figured you were just being polite,” I admitted. His full lips stretched into a lazy grin. His blond stubble glinted in the light from above the bar, slightly softening his glass-cutting square jaw.
“Never figure that. I’m probably the rudest person you’ll ever meet,” he said casually.
I wet my lips. “That’s an odd thing to boast about,” I heard myself say, before clamping my lips shut.
His grin only widened. “I wasn’t boasting, merely informing you. I don’t like to pretend to be something I’m not.” He reached out then, and shocked me, by tucking a hanging lock of hair behind my ear. “A woman should know who they’ve invited into their bed. It’s only fair,” he murmured.
Holy crap. My skin felt overheated, and tight like it didn’t quite fit anymore and my dress was pressing in all the wrong places. It felt at that moment that the only way to be comfortable around this man was to be naked.
“Do you often get invited into bed with women you’ve just met?”
“What do you think?'' His question was so rational and careless, it made me laugh. A peel of inappropriately timed laughter showered over us both, and the boss man flinched, surprised. His appraising eyes narrowed at me as if he’d never met someone like me before, and to be fair, he probably hadn’t.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t think there could be two people in this whole place who are more polar opposites than us,” I gestured between us.
“And how’s that?” he settled his arm on the bar, leaning in comfortably toward me.
“Well, you run a business, I’m a student,” I started, pointing between us.
“You don’t bother being polite, and I have no choice,” I continued.
“You get invited constantly to people’s beds and I- never even-,” I trailed off, and I realized what exactly I was revealing.
“Never even what?”
“Never mind,” I backpedalled, and grabbed my bag off my knee. I made to stand, just as the man's lithe, tattooed hands landed on the stool's arms, locking me in place.
“You’ve never… what, pumpkin? Tell me, I don’t bite… much,” he said with a lazy grin. He reminded me of a jaguar then, or a wolf, cornering its prey, but somehow it wasn’t unpleasant, not at all.