Sawyer
Icannot let this woman walk away.
Celia, or whatever her name was, is on the hunt for a man, and I’m not interested. Her friend, though, is like the sun. I want to stare at her until my eyes give out.
She’s got blonde hair that’s swept up on top of her head in a sleek bun, and I want to pull it until she arches her throat for me. And her lips—God, those lips. She bites at her lower lip as she watches her friend move into the crowd, drink in hand.
“I should go with her,” she says softly, and then her big eyes are on mine again. I can’t tell if they’re green or blue in this ridiculous light show. I want to get her somewhere else, somewhere I can see her, even though I’m pretty sure it’s going to take me apart.
“You’re staying with me.”
Her eyes go wide, a hand fluttering to her throat. It was a possessive prick thing to say. I don’t care. “I really should catch up with her, though. We came here together.”
“Listen, how about this? You let Sawyer buy you a drink, and I’ll find your friend and buy her one, too.” Max nudges me again. “And apologize. For his asshole behavior.”
I expect her to take her wide-eyed nervousness somewhere else, but she smiles at Max. “Fair warning. She doesn’t give very many second chances.”
Max is gone before she can say another word, and finally my attention is all on her. I shove my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching out to touch her, and step closer instead.
“So you do?”
“Do what?” Even her nervousness is pretty.
“You said your friend doesn’t give very many second chances. But you do?”
I can see her blushing, even in this light, and I want to put my hand on her jaw and brush my thumb over that color. I want to turn her head to the side and lick her jaw. “You weren’t very nice to her.”
“I’m not very nice.”
Her breathing kicks up, her breasts rising and falling underneath her shirt, and she’s radiating something sweet and sexy that I can’t turn my attention away from. I cannot tear myself away. I can’t stop myself from telling her the truth.
“No, you’re not.” She bites her lip. “But that’s why I came here. To be a wing woman for Carly. Sometimes we help each other with mean men.”
“Something tells me she doesn’t need any help.”
“Maybe not. But she did want me to find someone.”
“Someone like me?”
She grins at me in spite of herself, and it’s shy and sexy and fuck, if I’d had a drink, I would kiss her right now.
But I’m totally sober, and this isn’t the kind of woman I can take home for one night and kick to the curb in the morning.
She is not the kind of girl I can destroy and then walk away from.
Even if I want to.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even be talking to her. I bet she has a normal job, with a nice, regular life, and I…
I’m dangerous.
I’m way too dangerous.
I suck in a breath, trying to get a handle on myself.
My work for Domino has given me a reputation in the city. More than one person, I’m sure, has said behind my back that someday all of it will catch up with me. And then there’s my dad.
I don’t know why I’m thinking of introducing the two of them. I would never do that.
“What’s funny?” she asks.
“Thinking about the odds of meeting somebody like you in a club.”
She laughs genuinely at that. “You don’t even know me.”
“I want to.”
Something changes in her expression then, her eyes narrowing, her smile a little more pointed. “What makes you want to know me?”
I don’t have time to make up any flirty bullshit, so I tell her the truth. “The way you looked at me when I walked in here. Like you wanted to find out what I’d do to you.”
Zelda swallows, the smile slipping from her face, lips parting. “You didn’t mean that.”
“I mean most things I say.”
“Do to me?”
“Yes.”
Christ, the curiosity on her. It’s better than a shot.
Her friend reappears at her elbow, her face darkening like a storm cloud, not looking at me. “I have an idea,” Ceecee shouts above the music.
Zelda tears her eyes away from mine. “What?”
“Let’s go. I know a place with a better party.”
“I don’t know…” Zelda looks at me, eyes filled with indecision. A flicker of fear moves through them, and all my animal instincts want to chase down her fear. Exploit it. Get it to tell me all its secrets.
Her friend gives her another meaningful look. “You’re having a good time here?”
Protective, that one. I want to know why.
“Yes.”
Then the friend leans in, takes her by the elbow, and says something that I can’t hear. Zelda frowns, then gives her a nod, and before I can do anything, they’ve got their arms linked together and they’re moving past me. I get a whiff of her scent, light and flowery and clean.
I reach for her.
And miss.
She turns back over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” I don’t hear the words because of the music, but I watch her until she’s gone, the sway of her hips burning into my mind, the shape of her a kick to the gut, walking out of my life.