“I don’t drink when I’m working.”
I sit up straight, glancing around us. “Working? You work here?”
“You could say that,” he replies almost absentmindedly. His attention focused on something located over my shoulder.
I follow his eyes back to Ben, who looks like he’s fighting an internal battle on whether or not to brave coming over here.
“He wants you.”
“Very observant.” I roll my eyes at the obvious, and my shoulders tense when I see a wicked gleam enter his eyes.
“But you don’t want him.”
It’s not a question. I glance back in Ben’s direction. We dated for almost two years, but mostly because of pressure from our parents. Close family friends and what-not. Ben was at Harvard; I was at Delacroix—it just made sense. Until it didn’t.
“No.” I steal a word out of his playbook, while offering no further explanation.
Fingers on my chin bring my face back around to him. He brings me close, drawing me in until we’re only inches apart. His eyes are on my lips. Eyes that I notice are—fractured down the middle. I’d thought earlier they were a dark green, but up close I can see how each iris splits perfectly in half. Half green, half brown. It’s unsettling, honestly, but beautiful. Angelic and demonic.
Those fractured eyes fix on me now, heated; they feel like fire on my skin.
“What was the plan exactly?”
My cheeks flush. “I don’t know. It’s not like I planned this. I just—we broke up weeks ago, and my roommate convinced me to come out, but then Miles was here…” I’m over-explaining, but this guy has me so off-kilter. "And then I saw Ben, and I—panicked.” I look into his eyes, surprised to find he’s listening intently despite my rambling. I swallow, twisting my fingers together. “Maybe part of me wanted to get back at him for cheating on me. And part of me wanted to show him I moved on and that I wasn’t sitting at home for weeks in my pajamas eating ice cream andwatching shitty-ass romance movies because of him.”
I might be imagining it, but I think his hard gaze softens slightly.
“And howfardo you want to go to prove you’ve moved on?” His eyes are anything but cool now. He drops his gaze back to my lips, leaning in further, invading my space, invading my… soul, when I inhale that dark citrusy scent of him once again. He hesitates, his hands are on my waist, just before his mouth lightly grazes against mine, giving me the opportunity to pull away, if I want to.
But I don’t want to—I don’t think. I stay where I am, my eyes flicking up to find him reading my expression.
“Far,” I whisper.
His eyes flash—my only warning before his lips crash against mine. His hand slides up, gripping the back of my neck, and this man doesn’t just kiss me… No, he claims my mouth. My lips part, and he takes full advantage. His tongue sweeps through, tangling with my own. Strong hands grip my hips, and I have no control over my thighs when they tighten around him, forgetting for a moment just how very much in public we are.
He’s the first to pull away, and a small whimper escapes me at his sudden absence, my lips chasing his.
His face is a stone mask, but his eyes—his eyes are molten, staring at my mouth, slowly lifting. “Do you want to get out of here, love?”
That accent.I feel it twisting inside me. I’m still nearly breathless from his total invasion of my senses.
I bite my lip, trying to decide, and I swear I feel something harden underneath me.
I weigh my options. This guy is built. He’s both exceedingly tall and muscled; I wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight. Everything about him screams danger. Red flags all around.He’s a wild card, but yet, every touch from him has been gentle, respectful. Except for his claim on my mouth… that was straight sin. And god if I don’t need more.
“I—I don’t even know your name,” I sputter out, flustered and torn.
He stares at me for a long moment, as if deciding something.
“Rí.”
I arch a brow, leaning back to look at him, my arms still wrapped around his neck.Wait, when did they get there?
“Ree?” I repeat, uncertain if I’m hearing him right, but he nods in confirmation. My eyes narrow with suspicion. “That’s not your real name.”
“No, it’s not,” he admits, to my surprise.
“What’s your real name?”
