The bartender stopped in front of him. “What can I get you?”
“A glass of champagne, a scotch on the rocks and…” He lifted his eyebrows at me.
I cleared my throat. “Make that two.” I held up a pair of fingers. “Scotches I mean, not champagnes.”
The bartender nodded before turning away.
“Copycat,” Connor muttered.
I caught his smirk before he smothered it. “It doesn’t hurt to know what flavours you like on your tongue.”
Snorting, Connor turned his body to face me. “What’s the point in you having that information? It’s not like it’ll do you any good.” Propping one boot on the foot rail, he leaned an elbow on the bar and tucked the other hand into his trouser pocket. The position screamed casual confidence. He looked ready to be photographed.Holy crap.He’d used the same pose for a spread inGQlast year. The man was literallyposingfor me.
“Maybe I’m curious,” I told him. “About who you are, what kind of man you’ve become.”
His smirk deepened. “A rich and famous one. What more do you need to know?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He’d tried the same bullshit on me last time. I was neither impressed nor intimidated by his celebrity status. If he wanted to scare me off, he’d need to try something else.
“If I told you the current balance of my bank account what would it really tell you about me? Other than I work hard,” I added.
“So do I,” he snapped, seeming offended I might think otherwise.
“But I already knew that about you.” I mirrored his body language, bending one leg to prop my own foot on the rail. “I want more.”
He shook his head. “You always want more.”
“True.” My knee brushed against his and he flinched, straightening.
The bartender returned with our drinks and Connor gave his room number for the charge before turning his attention back to me. “Here’s the thing, Lawrence.” He leaned closer. “I don’t care what you think of me. Not anymore.”
He cared. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be telling me he didn’t. He wouldn’t be edging closer and his eyes wouldn’t be turning from sky-blue to that darker, stormy shade. Damn, I wanted to kiss him so badly my teeth ached.
“Tell me something, Connor,” I murmured in a low voice, wanting to intensify the sense of intimacy that had sprung up between us. “This date you and Gabi are on. Is it real?”Please say yes.
His jaw clenched, but his gaze was steady as he replied. “Did you miss the part where we were in each other’s arms this afternoon when we fell into your room?” he pointed out. “Yes. It’s real.”
Releasing a relieved breath, I nodded. “I believe you, although…” Something wasn’t quite right. “The way you scrambled to your feet after I walked in, and stood three feet apart, you seemed, I don’t know, like you haven’t…”Touched.No, that couldn’t be it. “You and Gabi,” I began. “You’ve never kissed, have you?”
Connor looked away. “What Gabi and I have and haven’t done is none of your damned business.” He tilted his glass to take a sip of the amber liquid.
His words were a no if ever I’d heard one. “What the hell are you waiting for?” Wishful thinking filled in the blank. “Is it me?”
Anger flared in his gaze. “You have nothing to do with me and Gabi,” he hissed. “If you do anything to try to come between us, I will fuck you over in ways you can’t even imagine.”
“Trust me, Connor, I’ve imagined all the ways you could fuck me over. Some of them made me come so hard I almost blacked out.”
“Fuck.” His eyes closed and I thought I heard a low groan escape him. When his eyelids lifted again, the anger had been replaced by the blazing embers of a once-banked fire. “Don’t do this, Law. Gabi doesn’t want this.”
“Don’t be so sure you know what Gabi wants,” I insisted. “There are sides to her you haven’t tasted yet. But right now, I’m interested in whatyouwant.” I tilted my head and lifted my chin as if I were about to kiss him, though we weren’t standing anywhere near close enough. “I know you didn’t get the door between us locked while Gabi and I were gone this afternoon. It would have been a simple thing, but you didn’t do it.”
He swallowed, his gaze darting to Gabi for an uncertain moment before returning to mine. “I’ll arrange it at reception before we go upstairs.”
“Or you could leave it as it is,” I suggested. “If Gabi wants it locked, she’ll make it happen, and if she doesn’t…”
“What if she doesn’t?” he demanded, crossing his arms. “Would you see that as some kind of invitation?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But you have to understand something about Gabi. She loves to taunt me with what I can’t have. That goes double now you’re involved.”
