A shiver runs across my skin.
“Nathan—” I whisper, not sure if I mean to calm him or encourage him.
But then he turns me to face him fully, and his eyes—God, those eyes—are blazing.
Jealous.
Raw.
Hungry.
“Come here, Sparky,” he murmurs, and when I lean into him, his free hand slides to my waist and the one gripping the back of my neck guides me closer.
He’s so big.Tall and hard—not a gym rat, but I feel his muscles through his clothes and I know they’re there.
His eyes are burning as they meet mine.God, I love that ring of blue fire surrounding his pitch black pupils.
Holy.Fuck.
I breathe in and almost moan.
He just smells so good.
Like leather and mint and man.
Before I can think—or breathe—his hand tightens at my nape, conjuring a whole swarm of butterflies inside my stomach, and he pulls me in for a kiss.
And he kisses me.
Hard.
Deep.
Certain.
Heat crashes through me, melting every ounce of doubt as his mouth takes mine—slow but demanding, tender but fierce.
My hands grip his shirt instinctively.The hand not on my neck squeezes my hip, holding me firmly against him.
It’s the kind of kiss that silences every whisper in the room.At least for me, it does.
The music fades.
The only thing anchoring me to reality is Nathan Thorn’s mouth on mine.
“Fuck, Sparky, you taste like home,” he growls against my mouth.
He pulls back only when I’m breathless, dazed, buzzing.
Then, without giving me a chance to protest or blush or come up with some sane response, he entwines his fingers with mine and turns toward the exit.
“Nate—where are we?—?”
“Out,” he says, voice low and final.“I’m done sharing you.”
My heart stutters.
And before I can say yes or no—oh, who am I kidding, I’m so not saying no—he’s leading me through the restaurant like he’s done waiting.
