Chapter 2 #2
I turn to leave and then gasp when a strong hand grips my wrist and tugs me inside the room.
He lets go to close and lock the door behind me, but his dark eyes don’t leave mine as he continues the phone call, staring like my features might be on a test later.
Or like he’s prepared to stop me if I try to run.
I need a moment to process that, so I look away as if to give him privacy, taking in the small, neat office and the pictures on the desk.
There’s one of the pub’s original owner, Shawn Finn, and his wife.
Another with Seamus, his husband Bellamy and their four kids.
Beside it is a framed, faded child’s drawing of ponies and a coffee cup that says World’s Greatest Dad.
It’s so innocent and sweet, I instantly feel skeevy.
This isn’t the right place to have dirty, meaningless sex with a scowly stranger. Or to be murdered at a holiday party. Between you and me, I’m still not one hundred percent sure which one of those options is happening right now.
My radar is usually better than this. But I can’t get a read on him, apart from the fact that he feels dangerous to me, and I’m not sure why that’s turning me on so much.
“You found me.” His voice is deeper, more intimate, and I turn, realizing he’s off the phone and talking to me. He tenses when he takes in my expression. “Did I scare you? Grabbing you like that?”
My attempt at a sheepish smile feels sickly. “Who me? No, I’m used to being dragged into dark rooms and locked inside with strangers. Happens all the time. I just didn’t want to interrupt you. Those phone calls sounded…” Hot. Sexy. Arousing. “Important?”
His eyebrows furrow. “They weren’t.”
I blink at the obvious lie, then do what I always do when I’m nervous. Ramble and spew random factoids.
“I shouldn’t have asked. You know, there’s a famous coin called the Fugio cent,” I start, slipping my hands into my pockets and leaning against the desk so I won’t be tempted to do anything else with them.
Like reach out to squeeze those forearms, or toss something to distract him so I can run away.
Is that a gang tattoo mostly hidden by the collar of his shirt?
“Benjamin Franklin designed it in 1787 and engraved it with the motto ‘Mind Your Business.’ Historians argue about its meaning, but Ben was a cheeky bastard who had a way with words and some interesting habits. I’m thinking he used the first coin officially minted in his new country to give the finger to people who gossiped about his glass armonica recitals and naked air bath exhibitions. ”
Ah, the naked Benjamin Franklin visual. The king of all mood killers.
The man in front of me doesn’t flinch. Instead, he moves closer.
I clear my throat. “What I’m saying is, I should have minded my own business. About the phone call.”
“A singer with a passion for history. That’s an interesting combination.”
“No. I mean yes. I mean I love history,” I fumble, stopping myself from sharing information I never give to potential partners. Because the internet exists and parents and school board members are on it. “But I only sing on special occasions and in the shower.”
“And this is a special occasion? The redhead said it was a big night for you. Why?”
Um… “I really love Christmas parties?”
He grimaces. “Right. Christmas.”
The lust haze momentarily lifts. Maybe he actually is The Grinch. “Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of the best holiday ever invented. Roasting chestnuts, Secret Santas, some guy named Jack nipping at you?”
“Is your name Jack?”
“It could be tonight.”
His lips twitch in response to my quick comeback. Not that I’m staring at them. “I have no problem with Christmas. When you said that, I realized I’ve been so busy I forgot to shop and I’ll need to do a little extra this year, that’s all. I hate shopping.”
My shoulders relax, only to tense again as I wonder who he’ll be doing the extra shopping for. Family? Children? A significant other?
It’s not really fair of you to expect details from him when you won’t give any.
And still, I want them, because he’s fascinating and I don’t want to be a homewrecker if he’s already taken.
“You have unusual eyes,” he tells me. “Beautiful.”
“They’re not contacts.” That’s what everyone asks when they notice them. One is brown and green, and the other is more blue with a russet starburst in the center. Heterochromia for the Win. “And for a dragon, you’ve got pretty eyes yourself.”
They’re a deep, clear brown that shimmer in the golden light of the desk lamp.
He frowns. “Dragon?”
I could kick myself for letting that slip, but oh well. “I was thinking you looked like a sexy beast that really hated being surrounded by so many people.”
He tilts his head, his expression almost predatory as he moves again, trapping me between his body and the desk. “A beast, huh?”
“But a sexy one. It’s a compliment.”
His hand is on my knee, gripping it like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. “Give me your name.”
“I’d rather give you something else.” I’m not sure what comes over me, but the combination of heat and amusement in his eyes is too much to resist. I snag a handful of shirt fabric and pull him down so I can reach him, nipping his lower lip before kissing him the way I’ve been wanting to since I saw him from the stage.
He tastes surprisingly sweet. He must have been drinking hot chocolate with a dash of Irish cream liqueur, because that’s what it tastes like when he parts his lips for me. That and something darker. Richer.
I’m a good kisser. I know this because I spent years practicing, and I’ve seduced both men who were on the fence and lifelong rainbow riders with my talented tongue.
If you love what you do, it shows in your work.
So when he pulls back abruptly, expression unreadable while he pants against my mouth, I’m not expecting it.
I can’t help but wonder again if I’ve miscalculated. Was he not coming on to me?
As soon as the doubt crosses my mind, he’s kissing me , and everything changes. I forget all my usual moves. Forget where we are. Forget my name. He takes control without apology, and I give it to him without hesitation. It should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
I’m usually half the size of my partners, skinnier and slighter, but I’ve always taken the lead. This man handles me, dragging me off the desk and lowering us both until I’m straddling him in the nearest chair and clinging to him. I never cling.
“This is insane,” he growls against my mouth when I rock into him. Both of our cocks are hard as stone. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” I tangle my hands in his hair, caressing his shoulders through his shirt and squeezing the biceps that flex at my touch. “I shouldn’t be doing this with someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Someone who leaves in the middle of songs. Who doesn’t enjoy holiday parties and puts me on his lap without asking if I’ve been good this year. The opening was right there, Santa Baby, and you missed it.”
His grunt of surprise makes me grin.
“ Have you been good?” he asks huskily, scanning my face for the answer.
“Give me a few minutes and you won’t need to ask.” I kiss him again, loving the rasp of his stubble against my skin. Then he buries his face in my neck while I reach for the button of his pants. “I’m going to have marks from this beard you’re growing.”
“I’ll shave,” he promises, breathing me in. “Let me take you back to my room and I’ll shave first. The hotel isn’t far.”
He’s staying at a hotel. I was right. He’s not local.
“Don’t you dare shave,” I order, working my hand between our bodies. “Just let me…”
He swears as I finally get his pants open and take him in hand.
“I was right about your nickname,” I breathe. “You are a sexy beast.”
He hisses in pleasure. “I need to touch you. See all of you. Let me take you back to my room.”
“Let me take you right here.” I keep my grip while sliding out of his lap and onto my knees between his thighs.
“Fuck.”
“Not yet,” I say, licking my lips. “First, tell me how this feels in Turkish.”
The sudden tension in his thighs is hard to miss. “How did you know I was speaking Turkish?”
Oddly, it hit me as he was kissing me. “There’s this show I watch. Eda and Serkan are a trip,” I mutter distractedly, staring at his erection, which is my new favorite thing. “Don’t worry, it’s got subtitles. I have no idea what you were actually saying so you don’t have to kill me.”
Before he can respond to that I lower my head, wrapping my lips around him and taking him as deep as I can.
He instantly starts murmuring in Turkish and, if I weren’t kneeling, my knees would have buckled. This man is perfect. His taste. His response to me. I’m tempted to go with him. To spend hours, maybe days, in his hotel room, enjoying this feeling.
Days?
That doesn’t sound like me. But this kind of desire isn’t usual for me either. Excitement thrums through my body and I suck harder on his shaft, drawing a raw, arousing sound from his throat. I’m going to spend the night with him. Something tells me I’ll regret it forever if I don’t.
A minute later, as I feel the tension rising in him, his hands tightening tellingly, deliciously, in my hair, a furious pounding on the office door breaks through the passion clouding my brain. “Win! Win, damn it, are you in there?”
I pull back, blinking up at my now-scowling dragon in confusion as the pounding continues. “Win, please!”
“Connor?” That’s when I hear a woman shouting raggedly somewhere outside the office. It sounds like Kate. “What the hell?”
I’m on my feet in an instant, racing for the door. When I throw it open, Connor is standing there, looking terrified. Is that blood on his hands? “Win, you’ve got to come now. It’s Bex.”