“Twenty-five.” When I don’t respond immediately, her eyebrows knit together. “What, you don’t believe me?”
“I’ve no reason not to.”
“Can I guess your age?”
“Something tells me you’d do it even if I tried to stop you.”
“A quick learner.” She grins. “I like that.”
My throat constricts, heat blazing at its base. “Still not interested in casual sex.”
“Yet you keep bringing it up. I never even said that’s what mymeetingwas for.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid if I let you steer the conversation, you’ll go back to talking about the forms of contraception.”
“Why, does it make you uncomfortable?” Pink stains her cheeks. “You didn’t try to stop me before.”
“I didn’t say Iminded. You have a lovely voice. I’d likely spend the rest of my evening listening to whatever topic you picked.”
The bar lights cause her irises to glitter, and I feel my tongue in my throat.
“But,” I continue, “you seemed embarrassed by the oversharing, so I merely sought to keep things a tad less personal.”
“By asking indirectly about my plans.”
My fingers curl around the wineglass stem. “Admittedly, I’m not terribly well-versed in flirting.”
“Thatwas flirting?”
Heat fans my face as she barks out a laugh, tipping her head back. My eyes lock on the expanse of her neck, all smooth and unblemished, practically begging me to sink my teeth into.
Jesus, Sutton. Where didthatcome from?
Shifting on my stool, I lift a shoulder. “As I said, I’m not well-versed in it.”
“Then… How do you get to know people well enough to fuck them?”
I glance at her mouth as it curves around the wordfuck, my heartbeat ratcheting inside my chest. There’s something alluring about the way she says it, like it’s loaded with a thousand different meanings, all of them lewd.
But I’m not sure what to say to her. The short answer is that I don’t really, and that feels a bit too personal to divulge.
The long answer is even more personal, and I’m certain a stranger doesn’t care about the traumatic past I can barely recall.
My head throbs, sending a wave of nausea through me.
“Work keeps me busy,” I eventually relent. It’s true enough. “I don’t normally have the time for dating, casual or otherwise.”
“You’re a director, right?”
I cock an eyebrow, and she slides onto the stool next to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yes, I was eavesdropping. Rude, maybe, but now we have something else to talk about.”
I smother a grin. “Clever.”
“One of my many shining qualities.” She reaches up, toying with the snake charm on her choker necklace. “‘It was an awful thing that was done in this house that night, Mrs. Hale. Killing a man while he slept, slipping a rope around his neck that choked the life out of him.’”
Silence pulses between us, confusion wrapping around my thoughts.
