knew he was in trouble. But right now he didn’t care. ‘In fact, if I was a religious man, I’d say the devil invented drinks such as those.’
‘The devil?’ Her brow furrowed and she nibbled thoughtfully at her lip, the innocent gesture smashing the last of his restraint. ‘Because of the corrupting alco—?’
‘No,’ he interjected, pushing himself out of his seat and striding to stand before her.
She looked up at him questioningly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He knew he’d surprised her but, he couldn’t wait any longer. To hell with where they were.
Reaching for her hand, he took hold of it and tugged her to her feet, the force sending her unresisting body right up against his own, her eyes flashing as they lighted on his mouth so close to her own.
‘Because they make me forget all decency and do this...’ He cupped her chin and roughly took her mouth in his, his tongue taking no prisoners in its desperation to sink inside.
An explosion of sensations went off at once. She tasted like heaven, like the olive, the vodka, the traces of gloss across her lips... And then she sighed, the soft, feminine sound escaping her lips as she gave way to his invasion and he lost himself in her. Her hands snaked through his hair, her tongue seeking out his own, twisting and flicking, tasting and probing...
His surroundings disappeared as every sense focused on her: her kiss, her smell, the feel of her breasts pushed up against him, the little sounds she was making, the desperate buck of his cock as it pressed into her lower belly.
There was a movement behind him, the brush of a chair and a muttered ‘Excuse me.’ It filtered through his brain, through the haze.
‘Get a room,’ a voice said.
His internal voice or a real person? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.
But he should care...
He should!
Reality came crashing down—he needed them out of there. Now.
Forcing himself to slow down, he tried to part their mouths, their faces. He was rewarded with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A playful protest that felt anything but...
‘Spoilsport,’ she complained, and her pout was to die for.
He took a steadying breath. ‘You’re cheeky, sweetheart.’
One hand still cupping her face, he freed his other hand to rub it across his own, trying to get himself composed. He should be more unnerved by his lack of self-control—but fuck did he want to run with it regardless. Something told him that letting go would be worth it. That she would be worth it.
He scanned the bar. No one seemed to be looking their way. But that wasn’t to say they hadn’t been seconds before. That voice had sounded real enough.
‘We were having fun,’ she said, drawing him back, her eyes wide and alluring.
‘We were having fun.’ He repeated her words. ‘But I think we could have more fun elsewhere. I can have my driver here in five?’
Her eyes flittered and his chest tightened. Was she going to refuse him?
‘Driver, you say?’
‘Yes.’ He moulded his free hand into her back, pressing her against him, against the hard swell of his cock. Don’t deny me. ‘I promise he will see you home safely...after...’
He continued to caress her lip with the pad of his thumb, loving how her tongue would dart out sporadically to moisten the path for his touch.
‘In that case you’d best call him,’ she said softly, her hand coming up to take hold of his fingers and pressing a chaste kiss to their tips. ‘I’ll go and settle up.’
And just like that she was on it, stepping out of his hold and taking up her bag from the table, heading for the bar. He watched her go, his eyes hooked on the sweet sway of her body, he blindly retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. He dropped his gaze just long enough to dial his driver and, efficient as ever, he answered in two rings.
‘I need you outside in five,’ he said into the phone.
‘Sure thing, Mr Wright. Where we heading?’
‘Home.’
He cut the call and thrust his hand through his hair. He didn’t take women home. He went to a hotel, or their place. That way he could leave when he was good and ready. Certainly before morning. But the thought of sharing this woman with an audience a second more, or navigating the whole reservation thing... He didn’t have the patience. Or the inclination.
But to take her home—what the hell was he playing at?
JENNIFER TOOK HER time heading to the bar, sensing his heated gaze upon her and wanting to give him a worthy show. Her posture was smooth and assured, her hips moving with teasing provocation, her hair swinging subtly with each step.
On the outside she screamed control, but on the inside... She was on fire for him. The blood pumping through her system was heated beyond comprehension.
She wanted them alone. Now. But racing to the bar was hardly going to scream sex appeal and the very idea brought a laugh to her lips.
‘Good night?’ Darren said, not missing her little eruption.
‘The best,’ she said, placing her clutch on the bar and sliding onto a stool.
‘Glad to hear it.’ He gave her a knowing grin but left it there, his professionalism overriding as he asked, ‘So what can I get you?’
‘Both bills, please.’
‘Sure.’ He raised a cocktail shaker to the side of his head and started rattling it with gusto. ‘Give me one min.’
‘No problem.’
She propped her elbows on the bar, her head resting on her hands as she watched him work. She likened herself to the contents of the metal contraption being so expertly worked in his hands—shaken and about to be devoured. She smiled blissfully, the idea suiting her just fine.
It amused her that he’d wanted her name. It was a sweet gesture—too sweet. She didn’t want sweet. Sweet only led to complications—the kind that brought feelings, even relationships. And there was no place in her life for any of that. Her career came first. Her career and her family. She had no time for more. Not yet.
No matter how hot, how sexy, how interesting...
She twirled her hair around one finger. No, she needed him to be all about the sex—definitely just the sex. Someone like him would be too dangerous, too much of a distraction, to have around for long.
But as for the here and now... A little shiver ran through her as she conjured up those eyes, that smile, the dimple.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was on his phone but he was watching her, just as she’d known he would be, the carnal blaze of his eyes heating her from across the room.
‘Here you go.’
Darren’s voice pulled her back to the bar and his outstretched hand, containing a silver tray with two bills. She slipped her card on top, trusting him implicitly to have it right. ‘Just pop it on there.’
‘No problem.’
His eyes flicked behind her as he moved to the till and she realised her impromptu date had moved. She could sense his approach radiating down her back, her fine hairs prickling in anticipation beneath the delicate fabric of her dress, and she strung the sensation out, waiting for Darren to return her card and wish her goodnight before she turned.