Chapter 5
Hunter
I 'm so glad I was forced to come out tonight now because that kiss was the best kiss of my life. I only intended to give her a quick kiss, to tease her, but the moment we connected I wanted to devour her, and by the way she responded, she would have gladly let me. I have an urge to taste her again as my cock thickens in my pants at the thought of where this night could go.
Sitting with this stunning woman who smells like lemon and jasmine—I mean, I’m recognizing scents now. What is this woman doing to me—who is dressed as fucking Tinkerbell of all things, and me in my ridiculous Gladiator outfit, I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. It’s not how I saw this night going, and my sour mood has been transformed..
When she calls me Max though, a small part of my heart cracks. Even though I love the fact she has no idea who I am or what I’m worth, part of me wants to tell her everything about me. But if I tell her, will she react like every other woman? Some part of me wants to believe she is different, and won’t just take without giving something back.
“So then, are you just going to stare at me?” she breaks the silence and I’m struggling to form words. My brain is working overtime as I try to settle my thoughts. I’m torn between telling her everything and holding everything back.
We’re still sitting so close together, our bare legs touching, thanks to our stupid costumes.
You help run a multi-billion dollar company. Your leg touching a beautiful woman's leg shouldn’t affect you like this.
Get your shit together.
She’s looking at me expectantly, seemingly unaffected by our closeness. In fact, she almost looks like she knows the effect she’s having on me and is enjoying it.
Stealing myself, I brush a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear so I can see the shape of her face. I let my hand linger by her pulse loving the way it speeds up at my gentle caress.
She swallows before she chuckles. “Okay, I think we need to have an actual conversation because all this intense staring and smiling is getting a bit much. I’m going to ask some of the small talk questions I hate, but I need to fill the silence.”
“Okay, shoot.” I sit back slowly releasing her but keep our legs touching, not wanting to lose all contact.
“You’re obviously not from London, your accent, if I was to guess, would be New York?”
“Correct. You?”
“I’ve lived in London since I was ten. I love city life. I studied at Uni here. It's where my friends and my mum live. I don't think I could ever see myself living in the country again. I love the whole atmosphere and the speed of the city. I suppose when old age hits me the country doesn’t sound too bad.”
“You went to university here? What did you study?”
“I could give you the honest answer that isn’t really very exciting or I could make something up, so you remember me as the exciting pixie you met in a bar in London that one time.” She giggles.
“Honest, boring answer, please,” I say with a laugh. “I can make the rest up myself if I need to.”
Blowing out a breath she says almost defensively, “I’ve got a first class master's degree in Economics and Finance. Yes, it isn’t particularly exciting, nor is it something that you expect a woman to do or enjoy—”
“Whoa,” I cut her off. “Why wouldn’t I expect a woman to enjoy finance?” I say, secretly loving that she’s so well-educated and intelligent. I know from working at the firm in London that a first class masters means some pretty hardcore determination and dedication.
Looking a little taken aback she says, “Sorry, I get really defensive. Most people think I’m delusional, trying to make it in what is essentially a very male-dominated career. My ex included.”
Her ex told her that? Small minded prick.
“So, I’m assuming, one, you have a job in finance? And two, your ex doesn’t have his balls intact anymore?”
Grinning, she says, “Yes, I work for an investment firm in the City and he’s definitely lucky he still has his balls. Especially when I found him in our bed, said balls, deep in his secretary.”
Have I already called this man a prick?
“What an asshole. You’re obviously intelligent, driven, funny, and one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. He not only tells you that you can’t do the job you want because of your gender, but he cheats on you as well.” My arm is draped over the back of the couch and I glide the tips of my fingers over her shoulder, feeling a need to touch her. She hums softly before exposing her neck slightly allowing me more access. “Tink, you’re better off without him.” I’m angry on her behalf, thinking how I would treat her if she were mine.
Mine .
My cock twitches at the thought . Fuck, literally ten minutes with this woman and I’m getting territorial.
“Yeah I’m not going to say any more about that absolute dickhead, Dave’s firmly in my rearview.”
“Dave? Your Ex’s name was Dave?” I smirk.
“Yep.”
“Even his name is forgettable. But you’re right, he's not worth any more of your precious time.” Her lips tilt up in a grateful smile as she plays with the hem of her dress. I can’t help but follow her movement, my fingers itching to replace hers with mine so I could get to touch her, but our spell is broken by the flashing of her phone on the table. Swiping at the message she grins. “That’s my friends asking for proof of life. Apparently, I’ve been gone too long.”
I grab her phone and find the camera app, flipping it to selfie mode. Kissing her on the cheek, I snap a few photos, pressing the send button before she can check.
“Max, what did you put?” Her face is a mask of shock and amusement as she grasps the phone. Her soft hand wraps around mine, and I resist the shiver threatening to take over at her touch.
God, I really should tell her my real name, but I like being in this bubble with her too much for it to end now. She bursts into fits of giggles as she reads the caption.
Jade – Still alive, but I might not be in the morning after I’ve seen this Gladiator's helmet!
Covering her mouth she snorts out a laugh. On anyone else, it wouldn’t be so cute. “Oh, my God. That’s so cheesy. You're pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Three eggplant emojis.” She nudges my shoulder. “Don’t think I could handle you?”
Her chest expands as I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I’m certain you could handle me, but, Tink, my question isn’t if you could handle me. It’s if I could handle you? I don’t think one taste of you will be enough.”
I’m left slack-jawed when she jumps up, breaking our moment, I was sure she was about to tell me she wanted to get out of here. “Let’s dance.” Her voice is a little shaky as she holds out her hand.
Once we reach the dancefloor she puts her arms around my neck and starts to move to the music. Rihanna’s “Rude Boy” is playing and my little pixie knows how to move that tiny curvy body. My hands are on her hips and I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman, but when she moves quickly, giving me her back, and putting her hands on mine. She’s given me all the permission I need.
“You’re going to want to stop moving like that unless you want the whole club to watch as I make you come undone.”
Her lips turn up into a slow smile and her eyes fluttered close.
She likes this game.
The dance floor is so packed no one is paying us any attention. I turn her around and take her hand, dragging it down my body. I shudder at her touch, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I continue to take it lower. I keep going until she gasps, her hand pressed to the outline of my very obvious erection.
“Let’s get out of here, Tink.” It isn’t a question, more of a demand.
She whispers breathlessly, “Please.”