“Nice to meet you too…?” I let the word hang, all challenge and tease. Some guys on Prism don’t give out names.
He smiles, the kind of smile that’s all slow burn and confidence. “Silas.”
Silas. Even his name sounds dangerous. This is one bad idea I won’t regret in the morning.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, leaning in just enough for me to catch the scent of whiskey and something clean—cedar and rain.
I arch a brow. “Depends. You planning to drug me or charm me?”
His lips twitch. “Can’t it be both?”
I laugh, quick and bright. “Bold of you to assume I’m not the dangerous one.”
He signals the server with a small, efficient gesture, never breaking eye contact with me. “What’s your poison, Luke?” he asks as the waiter comes to a stop next to our table.
I lean one elbow on the table, drag a finger along the edge of a napkin as if I’m bored instead of buzzing with excitement. “Usually something that burns a little going down.”
His mouth curves—not really a grin or a smile, but clearly amused. “Tequila, then,” he says, already turning his attention back to me. “And a whiskey for me. Neat.”
He looks at me again, slower this time. “Hermoso desastre,” he adds quietly, like it just slipped out.
I blink. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”
His mouth tilts. “I don’t waste words on insults.”
Well.
That’s hot.
I lift a brow. “Confident.”
He shrugs, casual but sure. “I like knowing what I want and getting it.”
“And what is that?”
His gaze flicks briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Bad ideas that don’t ask for more than they’re offered.”
Interesting. And perfect. He’s not looking for anything beyond a hookup, which is exactly what I’m here for.
The server returns quickly, setting the glasses down between us—tequila in front of me, whiskey in front of him. Silas nudges mine closer with two fingers. Our skin brushes for half a second. It shouldn’t feel like anything, but a spark of awareness shoots up my arm from my fingertips.
I wrap my fingers around the glass, heat curling low in my stomach. “You always order for other people?”
“Only when they’ve already told me what they want,” he says smoothly.
I smirk, flirting a little. “And if I had wanted something else?”
“Then you would’ve said so,” he replies. “Nome gusta adivinar.”
I pause, shot hovering halfway to my lips. “Was that… Spanish?”
His eyes flicker with something like amusement. “It was.”
I shrug, tossing the shot back. “Hot. Definitely use that while you’re fucking me.”
He lifts his glass, eyes dark. “I was planning on it.”
God.
