Chapter 10 #3
But as I pivot my head slightly, I find those captivating eyes already pinning mine, paralyzing me, and every breath of mine seizes in my chest, burning through my lungs.
His gaze drops to my lips, his eyes telling me just what he wants to do with them.
My stomach bottoms out, the knots already there tightening. His thick fingers drag over the bar, nearing mine as he raises his other hand to get the bartender’s attention.
“What can I get ya?” Tina asks, breaking our intense lust-filled connection.
“Martini for her. Whiskey neat for me.”
“Who the hell told you I wanted a martini?” I ask firmly as Tina strolls away.
He rotates in the swivel chair, quirking up a brow. “Was I wrong?”
“No,” I grumble, threading my fingers through my hair. “But that’s not the point. Ask next time.”
Who does he think he is, ordering for me like he knows me or something? I mean, it is one of my favorite drinks, but that’s not the point.
“There’s going to be a next time?”
“I didn’t mean…”
The tantalizing way his gaze fills mine with want has me stammering. Those eyes glow like skin warmed by the sun, radiating down my body in waves of heat.
There’s a touch of a smile on his face, a genuine one. “Uh-uh, you can’t take it back now.”
I breathe out an unintentional snicker.
“Wow, she finally laughs,” he says.
“Barely.” I roll my eyes.
He angles his head to the left. “It’s a start.”
The drinks arrive and I quickly pick mine up, taking sip after sip, needing the lull of alcohol.
He doesn’t touch his drink yet, watching me enjoy mine. A quiet moment passes as he stares deep into my eyes like he’s trying to figure out a Rubik’s Cube.
It makes my heart beat faster.
“Would you stop looking at me like that?” I say. “It’s kind of creepy.”
And also a little hot. No, scratch that lie. A lot hot.
“I apologize. I’m only trying to figure out how someone could be this beautiful.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “What’s your name, Casanova?”
“Brian Smith. What’s yours?”
“Chiara.”
“No last name?”
“Nope. Just Chiara.” I don’t know if he’s heard of my father, but I think it’s better if I don’t give him that part of me. I haven’t enjoyed a conversation with a man in too long, and I don’t want it to stop just yet.
My dad’s reputation has done a number on this city. Sometimes I wish I could change my name, but I’m stuck with the one I have.
He reaches for my hand, the one on my lap. Picking it up, he kisses the top of it, gazing at me from below a full set of dark brows.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, lifting his mouth away. “I have a feeling we’ll become fast friends.”
The corners of his lips tip up wickedly with a slant of his gaze.
I have a feeling he may be right. It may be the alcohol, but I’m looking forward to it.
Minutes turn to two hours, and we’re still talking, lost in each other, lost in the words and the attraction building with every moment that passes by.
I haven’t felt this way before. This sense of want for another person. Not this badly. I want him even more now than I did when I first saw him.
Every time he talks, all I want is to know even more about him, to know his lies and the truths behind them.
He’s given me bits of himself, and I’ve given him crumbs in return. Little tiny fragments of our real selves, but it’s been enough to keep us both interested.
It’s not like I can share anything too personal, and he seems the same way too…guarded, keeping his deck of cards close to his chest. I get that more than anyone, and it makes him even more intriguing.
I intend to figure him out. Maybe not today, but I will know him.
“How come some man hasn’t swept you off your feet yet?” he asks, seemingly curious, as he picks up his whiskey, downing it without even a grimace as though he just drank some water. He pushes the glass away.
“Maybe I don’t want to be swept?” I cock a brow. “Maybe I want to be pushed. Hard. Fast.”
What the fuck am I doing?
But I can’t stop myself, especially with this liquor pooling into my empty stomach.
As I take another sip of my drink, he’s suddenly off his seat, spinning me in my chair until I’m facing him. His palms land hard on the bar, caging me in as he lowers his face close enough to mine, capturing me.
Excitement shivers, running down my spine as my lungs battle for air.
“Say one more dirty thing, Chiara,” he warns, holding my gaze with his heavily-lidded one. “And I’ll push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before.”
My lips shudder. My stomach flips and bends from the power of his words, the close proximity of his hard body, the woodsy smell of his cologne.
His mouth lowers closer to mine and I inhale a breath, anticipating the feel of him, but instead, his teeth graze over the corner of my lower lip, sending a sharp tingle to my core.
My pussy clenches, feeling hollow, needing more. I think I may have whimpered. I hope he didn’t catch it with the beating of the music clouding over us.
He pulls away, gazing at my mouth like he’s about to make a full meal out of it. My breaths fall shallow and shaky, the center of my chest aching from the tattered beats of my heart.
Then he moves back, finding his seat again.
And I’m left trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.