Narrowing my eyes, I read the lie in his. The color of which I haven’t been able to decipher from so far away. “That’s bullshit. You’re being modest. They’re more than holes-in-the-wall, or else you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
He rubs his jaw on both sides with one hand, and it’s one of those moves that’s not sexual but hot nonetheless.
“They do all right.”
“Mhm.” I raise both brows knowingly.
“Fine.” He exhales loudly. “They do more than all right.”
Laughing, I swallow more of the fizzy drink from the bottle.
“Does it hurt to take off those nipple pasties after a long night?”
I nearly spit out the champagne at his bold question. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s not my fault that you came in talking about them.” There’s a hint of humor in his voice.
My coughing finally ceases, and I remember my words from a couple of minutes ago. I shut my eyes and shake my head in embarrassment. “We’re going to pretend I didn’t say that and go back to one of my original questions.”
“That’s a tough thing to forget when the dress you’re wearing is quite flattering, but all right.” His flirtatious words make me pause. I see him smiling again. This man is something else. The kind of compliments he’s giving me are ones I haven’t experiencedmuch with most men. Either they don’t know how to flirt, or they stumble over their words, but not this guy. He’s confident. I could tell from the moment I saw him. “What’s your question?”
Composing myself, I ask what I’ve been wanting to since I decided to stay in the room. “Who are you?”
“I told you?—”
“What’s your name?” I clarify.
He tips his head to the side and looks at every angle of my face. I try to control my breathing. His stare is intense yet somehow soft, and it’s driving me crazy. Being this turned on by a stranger is a first for me.
“You can call me Ace,” he finally says.
I keep perfectly still, noticing the sparkle of mischief and half lie behind his eyes. “I’m assuming that’s a nickname.”
He dips his chin. “That would be correct. Although it isn’t one that I use.” Ace’s gaze narrows. “You’re good at reading people. Are you a therapist? Because if that’s the case, I should tell you therapy makes me extremely uncomfortable.”
“No.” I roll my lips inward. “Do I look old enough to be a therapist?”
Ace slams his glass down. “Please tell me you’re old enough to drink legally.”
Wanting to scare him a little more, I say, “We’re in England, so you’re asking me if I’m at least eighteen?—”
He stands. “This is highly inappropriate?—”
Flying off the couch, I grab his forearm. “Don’t leave.” My eyes widen at how panicked I sound at the thought of him leaving, but I don’t want tonight to end just yet. “I’m twenty-one.” He hesitates. “There’s no one under twenty-one allowed into this ball, remember? You can’t enter without an invitation and ID.”
Ace shakes his head and lets out a sigh of relief. “That completely escaped my mind. I apologize. And here I thought I was attrac?—”
His pause causes the air in the room to crackle with tension.We stare at each other, still standing. That’s when I realize how tall he is. I’m used to being around tall men, but not without heels. When I notice that my hand is still on his forearm, I quickly pull it back as if I were burned, and I take a large step away.
“You’re short,” he states, catching me off guard.
I snap back to reality at his random comment. “Really? I hadn’t noticed in the past twenty years,” I deadpan.
He laughs gently. “What should I call you?”
I’d already come up with a name minutes ago. Not a nickname of mine, but of someone in one of my favorite novels. “You can call me Lizzy.”
“Nickname?”
