When I look back at him, I realize he’s leaning to the side, watching them from around my waist.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I ask narrowing my eyes.
A man this good-looking and this good-smelling doesn’t typically sit alone in a club like Lush. Either he’s with a group of men around a poker table or sitting in a dark corner with a woman he picked up on the dance floor.
He huffs a short laugh. “No. I was just killing time myself.”
“So you’re meeting someone.” Disappointment floods me, which makes no sense.
I’m getting married in less than twenty-four hours.
“I already said I wasn’t.” His full focus is on me. The intensity of it burns my skin.
“Then you’re killing time until your friends get here?”
“Friends no. I have a business thing.” As if his saying the words conjures it, his phone vibrates on the tabletop. He swipes it up takes a look and frowns. “I did have a business thing. I don’t anymore.”
He types out a message on his phone, then tucks it away in the back of his pants.
“Looks like I’m all yours,” he grins. It’s such a playful smile filled with dangerous adventure.
Like a roller coaster ride that looks too scary to attempt, but you just know if you don’t you’ll regret it forever. That’s him.
“Again, I apologize for the accident earlier. Can I get you a round of drinks? On the house of course.” The waiter who bumped into me moments ago appears at the table.
“I’ll have a whiskey neat. She’ll have whatever she was drinking at that table over there.” My rollercoaster ride gestures toward Kara and Rosa. “And a glass of water.”
“Of course.” The waiter practically bows as though he’s leaving the presence of royalty then hightails himself away.
“How do you know I want a drink? Maybe I’m ready to go back to my friends.” I fold my hands on the table, leaning back against the lush backing of the booth.
The soft yellow glow of the single bulb smoked chandelier hanging over the table casts him a gentle light. His expression contradicts his easiness with his set square jaw, and a dark-flamed fire brewing in his eyes.
“If you wanted to go, you wouldn’t have sat down.” He leans forward. “And I don’t want you to go yet. So you’ll stay. Have your drink.”
I swallow, trying to wet the inside of my mouth that’s gone dry. Unlike my panties, which are getting wetter by the moment with him looking at me with such a predatory gaze.
“Does ordering women around often work for you?” I finally croak out a question.
Apparently, my spine did make the trek with me across the room when I left the safety of my friends.
The side of his mouth kicks up in the sexiest grin I’ve seen from him yet.
“What works with other women doesn’t matter. It works for you.” He leans back as our drinks are delivered.
Once the waiter is gone and a fresh Cranberry Velvet sits on the small black square napkin in front of me, he locks his eyes with mine.
Lightning bolts crashing from the ceiling to my core right at this moment would be less powerful than this.
“Take a sip of the water,” he orders, and it feels like every bit of a test.
I run my finger around the lip of my glass, eyeing him over the rim. Do I want to pass…or fail?
Grabbing the smoked crystal glass, I lift my Cranberry Velvet to my lips. It’s sweet and smooth, but stronger than the first drink I had. I keep myself from clearing my throat as the subtle burn of the vodka warms my insides.
His half smile spreads wide, and he chuckles.
“You like to play the bad girl.”
