Every man exceptthisman.
The man whose arm I am attached to keeps his attention on the room with a quiet observance of who is looking our way as we pass. He greets multiple people whose very presence smells like money and stature. He doesn’t smile. That’s one of the first things I noticed about him. He hardly smiles at all, and yet his lips tip in the corners, even when they’re slack.
He’s professional. Powerful. Dominating.
The bartender sets down two drinks just as we approach, and I look up at him.
“They know our drink order?” I ask.
“They know me,” he answers. I suppose that means they know me too, and I wonder for a split second if I am being too trusting. “Also, it’s a mocktail. You said you were done for the evening. It’s for show.”
He listens to me. That’s a first. Still…
Girls get in trouble this way.
Girls go missing this way.
Men like this can cover their tracks, no questions asked.
And yet…I’ve never experienced excitement like this in my life.
Even if things took a turn, at least I could say that I lived.
It almost brings tears to my eyes just how much I have always longed to feel alive.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask as I run the tip of my finger along the brim of the glass.
The man answers with a small upward tick of his head.
“Do you own the hotel?” I ask.
“Yes, this is my hotel. Among others. I also own a couple of clubs.”
Damn. Alright then.
I take a sip of my drink. It tastes just like the other one except notably, no booze. It also has this lovely little slice of dried pear dangling on the glass, and while I’m sure it’s not the most ladylike thing to do, I want to eat it. As I reach for it, his hand intercepts.
He clips the pear slice from the glass, and my eyes trail up to his as he dips it in my drink before slowly bringing it up to my mouth. My lips part as I bite it, chewing slowly before taking the rest of it into my mouth.
Then he runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, dusted in wet sugar, and brings it to my lips. My eyes locked on his. They are a dark brown resembling aged whiskey, I lick the sugar from his thumb, suckling it at the end.
All the while, the words replay in my head in a whisper, growing fainter each time.
I never do this.
I never do this.
I never do this.
Everything around me fades as desire and need take over.
He pulls me into another kiss, hard and urgent.
His teeth graze my lip, his tongue finds mine, and his jaw works to force my mouth open more. His hands clasp my hips, pulling me against him hard, with no intent of ever letting me go.
I do not know this man.
I do not know if I trust this man.
