Pagan brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently before muttering, “Wanna drink?”
My cheeks burned.
I sensed who Pagan was, and I also sensed what he was capable of, but it was like my body had a life of its own because I nodded.
“For fuck’s sake,” I heard my brother mutter.
“Leave her alone,” Maeve hissed. “She thinks he looks like Jason Statham.”
Pagan’s grin widened cockily, his dark, all-knowing stare never leaving my face.
My eyes widened, and I sent Maeve a glower.
Maeve made aneekface. “Sorry,” she said, smiling as my brother pulled her away, while whispering something in her ear.
Pagan leaned in, his aquatic, fresh cologne filling my senses, and with his mouth a hairsbreadth from my ear, he asked, “What are you drinking?” He spoke slowly, letting each syllable roll over his tongue, drawing out the sound like he wanted to taste it—and me.
I turned until our eyes locked and murmured, “You move fast.”
His mouth curved into a predator’s smile. “No time to waste, baby. I’m a busy man.”
It was cheesy, and I should’ve laughed, but something in his voice, a kind of wondrous reverence, made me suspect he meant every word.
“Whiskey on ice.” I pushed the words out, my gaze darting between the fathomless, black depths of his eyes.
He blinked, effectively breaking our spell, then leaned down and brushed his lips against my forehead, not quite a kiss, but still something. “A girl after my own heart,” he rasped before turning and sauntering toward the bar with his MC brother at his back.
I watched Pagan prowl, his brother flanking him like personal security—not that he needed it because the crowd automatically parted to let him through. Women stared up at him over the rim of the glasses while men lowered their eyes to avoid confrontation, their faces flashing with instant respect, suspicion, and in a few cases, fear.
Liam Doyle, a distant cousin and Maeve’s adoptive brother, greeted Pagan with a handshake and a shoulder slap before turning and introducing him to his da, Patrick. After conversing for a couple of minutes, they brought forward Patrick’s other daughter and Maeve’s adoptive sister, Shannon.
I watched her smile coquettishly up at Pagan, and a sick feeling hit my stomach. She offered him her hand, which he brought up to his mouth, much like he’d done to me minutes before.
A pang shot through me because something about that move made me believe I was different.
It made me feel special.
I didn’t know why it hurt; I hardly knew him, and the little I did know should have made me run for the hills.
What the hell was I doing, even entertaining a man like that?
Jesus, Aislynn, get a grip.
Shannon’s fake laughter cut through the music and chatter in the room, causing me to glance back over toward the bar, where Pagan was standing so close they were practically embracing.
His eyes flicked up, found mine, and held them so completely that I couldn’t look away. The light around me seemed to dim, the sounds of revelry becoming echoes as we stared into each other’s eyes.
With his stare still glued to me, Pagan leaned down and whispered something in Shannon’s ear, his lips so close that they grazed her soft lobe.
Shannon’s lips parted in an O, her eyes went half-mast, and she shivered, basking in his words. Her lashes swept down and back up, feigning innocence, her expression filling with a mix of delight and knowledge that she’d just caught her prize.
I broke our stare, my eyes lowering to where Pagan’s hand lingered on Shannon’s arm. His fingers ran across her delicate wrist, holding it for a split second too long before he turned toward the bar and gave me his back, effectively severing our connection.
It was calculated. Pagan knew I was watching, and he knew how it affected me, but what he didn’t know was that his calculations were off.
I wasn’t a girl who played games, and men who did gave me the ick.
Pulling my shoulders back, I glanced around the room, noticing Tristan and the Speed Demons’ ol’ ladies settling around a table that had just become free. Tossing my hair, I strutted toward my friends, showing the world how unbothered I was and how little I cared. Pagan was already a memory, aman who had piqued my interest but then showed me he wasn’t worth shit.
