Chapter 6 #2
“I’m 26,” I said, curious how she’d misjudged it but knowing better than to ask a woman her age. “So you recommend I ask women to sign a pre-sex contract? Is that what you do?”
“No, I don’t engage in such short-term pursuits.”
I took in her pearls, her coiffed hair, her steely gaze. “Aaah, you’re a girl who needs to be wined and dined before you—”
“I’m a woman who doesn’t waste time,” she said, gaze traveling to Alex.
I held back my groan of frustration, that she was planning years into the future when I didn’t know what I wanted for breakfast. Meanwhile, Joanna watched over the rim of a fresh appletini, ready to swoop in if Red brushed me off.
“I get it. You’re not interested, but people are watching. Let’s get your man's attention, get my hookup to back off, then you can go your own way.”
Her eyes lingered on my mouth, reading my lips. She gave an almost imperceptible nod. I positioned her within his eyeline, then spoke into her ear, “He’s looking. Pretend to laugh.”
“That’s unrealistic.”
My lips quirked at her deadpan delivery. “What’s unrealistic?”
“You don’t strike me as funny.”
“You’re always this serious? Even when a man has his hand here?” My hand slid lower, gently squeezing her ass cheek. When I angled our bodies to shift my leg between her thighs, she let out a soft gasp. “You’re doing great, Cobrita. Is Joanna watching?”
Her eyes flicked over my shoulder, then she nodded.
“Do you trust me?” It’s a question I asked to put my training clients at ease.
For the first time, I felt the full weight of her intense gaze, her cool eyes acting as a mirror to dispassionately cast away the flickering club lights.
I wanted to lace up, grab her reluctant hand and glide onto her skating rink eyes. If I could melt the icy exterior, I’d toss her in fully clothed, jump in head first after her, and backstroke in her glacial stare.
I would risk frostbite for a night with her.
“No,” she took a sharp breath. “I don’t trust you.”
I touched her hand, still stiff on my shoulder, and slid her palm to my chest. “You don’t trust me? That’s ok, baby. Then you’re in control.”
She made a valiant effort to keep her expression reserved, but her pupils dilated, black overtaking silver. She liked being in control.
Good, because the idea of her bossing me around turned me on.
A cheer rose when the song changed. Over the pulse of a thumping beat, Ariana Grande sang about being so into her guy that she could barely breathe, and how the crowd was watching so he should stop talking and make a move.
“Touch me wherever and however you want,” I murmured, feeling her shiver when my mouth grazed her earlobe.
My body was my business, so I kept it in prime physical shape, which often led to objectification—people assuming that since I was hoping to strengthen their bodies they had access to mine—so it wasn’t an invitation I gave lightly.
On the rare chance I made this offer, I expected hands to trail south from my chest to my abs, and in a perfect world, my dick. A preview of the invitation back to her place.
But she surprised me, her head tilting a fraction like a curious dog. Her fingertip ran past my collarbone and up my neck, lingering where a tattoo peeked out from my collar. With focused precision, her fingernail skimmed into my beard, like a forensics team collecting a trail of fingerprints.
As her palm lingered on my jaw, my attention channeled into my hands on her ass, shifting in perfect rhythm to the thumping beat. Her assessing ice-rink eyes dropped to my lips. I mouthed, “You should kiss me.”
She lifted on her toes and I lowered my mouth, my lips brushing hers. She let out a soft sigh, hands fisting my shirt collar to prevent my retreat. It was permission to savor, running my tongue along her full lip.
When her lips parted with a gasp, I slid in, where our tongue sparred. Her hands ran into my hair, messing up my bun, forcing me out of her mouth, her tongue delving into mine.
When I finally broke away, her eyes drifted open. Our gazes locked for two panting breaths, then three, intensity curling between us. I hadn’t had a first kiss that hot in … fuck, never.
Her gaze tracked over my shoulder. “Your girl looks pissed.”
Right. It wasn’t a real kiss, just a ruse to incite jealousy.
Behind her, Alex’s head snapped away. Kate made a bat-swinging gesture as her fiance Paul lifted her jacket to take her home. Pike’s hands rested on Mallory’s hips as she ground into him, eyes wide with disbelief. At least one of us was living his fantasy tonight.
“Mission accomplished,” I said, not ready to release her ass, which still pulsed to the bass. “Lead me out and catch a cab. I’ll walk home.”
A jolt of energy burst up my arm as she interlaced our fingers. She collected her coat then the little minx glanced over her shoulder with a coy smile. Her expression darkened before she led the way downstairs to the cab stand.
She shivered in the cool winter air, tugging the coat belt tight.
When I stepped closer to block the wind, she shifted away and looked at the clouds.
I guess assessing the risk of snow was more interesting than my company.
Under the overcast sky and street lights, her eyes gleamed silver with hints of pale green.
Her gaze flickering above us reminded me of that Fleetwood Mac lyric about silver with blue-green colors flashing. Stevie Nicks’ voice is so sweet and pure in the first verse then devolves into a haunting threat, raw and emotional … sort of like the voice in the vents earlier this week.
The redhead’s attention dropped to my face. She’d seemed annoyed before, but with furrowed brows and a tight frown, she bordered on furious. “Is that Fleetwood fucking Mac?”
Oh, guess I’d been humming along with my thoughts. A song by a woman jilted by her long term lover might be tacky. Whoops.
Her ferocity surprised me. She’d worked to appear indifferent all night, yet humming set her off. “You don’t like Fleetwood Mac?”
“I didn’t say that.”
The cab pulled up. She scooted across the leather seat with legs crossed at her ankles. Back to being closed off, whatever emotion the humming triggered locked away. “Drive around the block, I’ll give you my address when he leaves.”
Even though this plan had been my idea, I tried not to take her secrecy personally.
After I climbed out, cab turned north and I headed in the same direction, cutting through an alley into the building’s back entrance.
In the lobby I glanced into the open elevator, where the redhead slumped, her forehead resting on the mirrored wall, ready to cry.