At least someone appreciates this dress.
“Is this some kind of a convoluted come-on?” I purr, coming to a stop close enough to get a hit of his heady aftershave.
“Would you like it to be?”
My insides flare like a struck match. I thought I was just flattered, but it would seem I’m more than that. My body’s enjoying this. Weird.
“What I would like is… a drink.” I reach out, and he allows me to lift the glass from his hand.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It was an answer to the question you should’ve been asking.” Raising the glass, I stare up at him from over the rim.
“The preliminaries?”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?” I sip at the cool yet fiery liquid before offering him it back.
Plucking it from my hand, he twists at the waist to set it behind him.
I gasp as I find myself suddenly pressed against him, the sensation like some sensory trip wire as my body floods with awareness. His body is hard to my soft, and everywhere we touch seems to burn. His fingers tighten on my bum, my own flexing where they’ve landed on his biceps.
“There were no manners where I grew up.” His low rumble should be frightening, but panic doesn’t flare for some reason. Instead, I find myself inhaling his complex scent—whiskey and shaving soap and a deliciously woody scent.
“How disappointing.” My body contradicts my answer, liquid pleasure flooding to places it has no business being. I almost laugh because, what do you know? I haven’t turned into a Barbie doll from the waist down after all! I’m flattered, interested,andturned on to the point I really ought to be making use of the long thigh split in my dress to knee him where it hurts.
“So says the thief.”
“Thief?”
“You get nothing for nothing in this house, princess.”
Something about the moniker makes my insides fizz. Princess is so much better than Ned or Lav.Or drama queen.
“What gets me a drink?”
Raif pulls back a little, allowing me to stare into those liquid dark eyes. “What have you got to trade?”
I laugh softly. “Aren’t I in deep enough?”
“No such thing.”
Desire drops inside me like a plumb line. This is crazy-pants ridiculous, but it seems I am here for it! I don’t remember the last time I felt this kind of attraction. Sexual attraction. I was beginning to wonder if I might be asexual.
“Sadly for you, I seem to have forgotten my purse.”
“Lavender.” My name feels like a brush of velvet against my skin. “You know I’m not interested in the contents of your wallet.”
How about the contents of my knickers, I think wickedly.
“How about you trade me a kiss for that drink.”
My tummy flips, a dark image flashing in my head of the last time I kissed a man. Before I can be sucked into that morass, my mouth is running ahead of my sense.
“How cute,” I find myself saying.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“It’s a bit like a trip down memory lane.”Liar.I thrust the thought away as his brows flicker, and I think for a moment that he heard that, too. “I once flashed my knickers for a packet of Rolos.”
