Chapter Four
Damien
Well, my plans to approach her when I was ready were fucking ruined by her presumptuously eager friend. She shifts on her feet in front of me, almost uncomfortably, while I stand here, calmly leaning against the bar, and I can practically feel the anxiety radiating off her.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, trying to settle her nerves.
“No,” she answers quickly and firmly, shaking her head.
“Hmm,” I murmur with a nod. “Can I ask why not?”
She looks me over cautiously before answering. “Having a random guy buy me drinks is not really my thing. That’s more up Spencer’s alley.” She points over her shoulder to her friend, who’s standing a few people behind us now.
I love that she’s honest. Although I could already tell none of this is her vibe, it’s what drew me to her in the first place. But now that I’m speaking to her and hearing her smart retorts, I find myself really intrigued and wanting to know more. “Okay, so what is your thing?”
“Definitely not any of this.” She motions around the room with a nervous laugh. “I’m more of the bingeing-true-crime-documentaries-and-eating-too-much-popcorn type.”
“Sooo,” I slowly drag out. “What you’re saying is: I can’t get you a drink, but I can come over to your place to watch TV?” I raise a challenging eyebrow, but I’m not sure if she can see it with the mask on my face.
“That’s mighty forward of you.” She laughs, and it sounds so sweet. Effortless. Like she’s not putting on a show or a front, like most women who try to get with me do. She’s just being genuinely herself.
I shrug and say, “I mean, I’ll take either. Whichever I can get.”
There’s a pull between us, and I’m not sure if it’s because I can’t stop imagining what her body would feel like under my touch and the sounds she would make when being thoroughly fucked, or if there’s something more here.
All I know is I can’t look away.
“About that drink?” I ask, giving it one more try.
She rolls her eyes under her lace mask, but I don’t miss the way her lips tilt up in a smile at my persistence. “Fine. If you insist. But only one.”
“Of course. Only one. Afterall, we aren't barbarians.”
Her body visibly relaxes with her next laugh, and I can tell I’m managing to put her a little more at ease. Good.
Placing my hand on the small of her back to turn her toward the bar with me, I can feel her stiffen slightly, right before relaxing again. Is she not used to physical touch? Because damn, the way I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of her body if I—
Calm it down, Damien, I have to remind myself.
“So, what will it be?” I ask, removing my hand from her back and splaying it over the bartop to intentionally keep myself from touching her. I can’t help but notice how her eyes graze over my forearms, at the tattoos there, as if they’ve piqued her interest.
She clears her throat before speaking. “Uhm. Long Island Iced Tea?” She says it more as a question than a request.
I snort. “Are you still in your college days? Damn party animal.”
“I don’t really drink often,” Lyla says, laughing nervously this time.
I nod in understanding. “Mind if I order something for you?”
“Sure, go right ahead.” She seems interested in seeing what I’ll offer her.
I put in the order with one of my best bartenders, Shelley, but I keep my eyes trained on her. “I’ll have a Moscow Mule, and she’ll have a Very Sexy Martini.”
I lean in to speak directly into her ear, drop my voice low, and say, “You are, you know... Very. Fucking. Sexy.” I pull back to find her gaze again, not missing the way her cheeks instantly redden, and her eyes dart around nervously at my words.
She gives me a pointed stare, with confusion and curiosity painted across her features and posture. “Out of all the women here, why are you talking to me?”
I let out an amused chuckle. One that gives away all of my bad intentions where she’s concerned. I relish the way her body visibly responds, her eyes widening and mouth opening slightly, before her tongue darts out and swipes across her bottom lip.
“Do you not see what I see? Because what I see…” My tone is challenging, and I step closer, raising a hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and letting the pads of my fingertips briefly graze along her exposed, defined collarbone.
Why is that so sexy? She shivers in response, keeping her wide eyes on me, and the beast inside of me goes rampant.
I let my gaze slowly sweep down her form, truly taking the time to take her in, to drive my point home further.
“I see a body worthy of being fucking devoured. A body worth worshiping.”
She swallows loudly, mouth falling open at my words. But she doesn’t pull away, so I take that as an invitation to continue.
Dropping my voice to a husky whisper, I say, “What I see is a woman I’d like to press up against the wall, slowly taking off this dress that’s working so hard to hide these perfect curves.
” My hand lightly trails over her hip, softly tugging at the flowy fabric there.
“I’d want to get a look at exactly what’s underneath.
Right before I drop to my fucking knees in front of you, and worship that pussy I know is already dripping wet for me. ”
Her chest is nearly heaving with intrigue and desire, but she looks away briefly before looking back at me. “You can’t say things like that.” Her voice is low, almost timid.
“You don’t like hearing the truth?”
She just stares at me, and I watch her intently, loving the way I can sense her pulse quickening by the way her breathing gets heavier.
She’s just as attracted and intrigued as I am. She just doesn’t know what to do with the desire that’s built up under the surface. I’ll gladly be the one to show her exactly what to do with it.
“I’d be on my knees this very moment if you’d let me. The need to find out if you taste as sweet as you look is so tempting.” I bite my lower lip.
My eyes track as her jaw slackens at the visual I just painted in her mind.