He leans in, and the crisp, dark scent of him displaces everything else.
Unable to help myself, I inhale again and take in the notes of power, undercut by something faintly citrusy.It’s brisk and controlled, like he refuses to allow anything that lingers longer than necessary.
I force myself to breathe through it and pretend I’m not drowning in his masculinity.
He drags over the nearby stool and takes a seat, mere inches from me.
The Texas heat, the music, the people, everything fades until there’s just this breathless, suspended thing between us.
Then I blink, forcing myself to remember that I’m in control.
I give him my best smile, the one I’ve perfected over the years spent at my father’s side.It’s as calculated as it is controlled.Promising everything and yet nothing at the same time.
“Can I buy you a drink?”His voice is sexy as sin, rough-edged and low, threaded with promises I know better than to believe.
Still, despite myself, my pulse trips.
“That depends,” I say.
One dark brow lifts.“On?”
“Whether or not I like the company.”
The corner of his mouth curls up, and something inside me turns molten.Damn it.Damnhim.
“In that case, allow me to attempt to make a good impression.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer.Instead, he signals for the bartender with a flick of his fingers like he owns the place.When he orders, it’s not some generic rooftop cocktail.
It’smydrink.
Exactly my drink.A Sicilian Velvet.
When the bartender sets the crystal in front of me, the liquid inside is the perfect shade and pour.
I narrow my eyes, amusement sparking.“You did your research.”
“Something like that,” he acknowledges.
I wrap my fingers around the glass, intending to take a sip, but his hand closes around my wrist before I can lift it.
It shocks me.
Not the touch exactly—men have tried to catch my hand before.It’s the quality of how he handles the situation.And me.Firm.Controlled.Like he already knows my pulse will jump for him and he’s checking to see if he’s right.
He is.
Heat flares under his fingers, my heartbeat kicking against his thumb like a trapped bird.For half a second, my body responds before my brain does, and a shiver slides up my spine.
“Careful, Valentina.”His voice is a warning and a caress.
I freeze.
He knows my name.
My gaze snaps up to his, all teasing gone.“How do you know who I am?”
He flicks a glance toward the bartender.“I asked.”
