“You forced me into it.”
My lips twitch in amusement. “It’s for the greater good.”
“Is it now?” She narrows her eyes. “I have a feeling it serves your agenda more than it protects me.”
Clearly annoyed, she reaches toward her book again, but her body loses its momentum and pitches forward.
In a few strides, I reach her before she face-plants onto the ground and gently ease her back onto the chaise.
“Ugh. It’s embarrassing letting you see me like this,” she groans and closes her eyes.
Chuckling, I pick up her book and set it on her lap.
Hades and Persephone again. Some things never change.
“It’s not the first time you’ve been an embarrassment in front of me. I’ve seen you drunk before. Very unladylike.”
Her eyes snap open. “Asshole. And when?”
I sit down on the floor, my fingers twiddling with my lighter. “You don’t remember?”
When she doesn’t answer me, I glance back, finding an adorable frown on her face as she racks her memory.
Then she sits up and slaps her forehead. “When you started helping at The Orchid ten years ago! That was you, huh? I always thought I heard someone talking to me that night, but I don’t remember.”
“Because you were drunk. You should be more careful of your surroundings. There are monsters everywhere who’d take advantage.”
She snorts. “Look where that’s got me. Here. With you. The monster of all monsters.”
I stand before I realize what I’m doing, and a second later, I’m hovering over her.
Her eyes go wide as she stares at me.
“Inevertake advantage of women,” I rasp.
Her lips part, her wine-scented breath grazes my face. I watch in fascination as a pink flush creeps up her neck to her face, and those startling gray eyes darken as the seconds stretch by.
“When I touch a woman, it’s because she wants it.”
“B-But in the office, and on Th-Thanksgiving…”
“You didn’t walk away.” I lean down until barely an inch separates us. “And youwantedit, Lana. You wanted every single second of it. I could smell your arousal.”
A soft whimper escapes her, and my cock hardens to full mast.
I swallow a groan, my hands clenching the chaise lounge for dear life because if I touch her, I’m done.
She’s drunk. She’s a means to an end. This isnotpart of your twenty-eight minutes.
But thenshetouches me. Drags a gentle finger over my scar, down my neck, setting me on fire.
Two slender hands mold over my shoulders then slide to my front, where my dress shirt is unbuttoned.
She slips her hands inside my shirt and caresses my pecs.
Skin touching skin.
“So hard. Muscular.” Lana continues her tentative exploration. “Your tattoos are so beautiful.”
