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The blonde from the pool table leans against the wall outside the ladies’ room. I devour her with my eyes.
“Why would I ask for your number?”
“Well, you’ve been looking at me like a starving man looks at dinner all night, so I just thought…”
“I haven’t been looking at you like dinner.” If I think my words will shake her confidence, I’m wrong. She just smiles wider. And that fucking thrills me. She doesn’t care about politeness or pointless hook-up rituals. “Dessert.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’ve been looking at you like dessert.”
Her mouth falls slightly open and I can’t resist. I step in front of her, caging her between my arms before I lean down and take that sweet mouth with mine.
The kiss hits like a dose of adrenaline, exciting every nerve in my body, but I force myself to take it slow, warming her up.
When my tongue slips past her plump lips, I taste the sweet and salty flavor of margarita. One day, years from now, I’ll drink one and think of this very moment—of the confident blonde with the killer legs and curvy ass.
She moans, a sweet little sound that revs me up, so I drop my hands from the wall, un-caging her, and place both palms on her face. She whimpers against my mouth and I pull her up on her toes to deepen the kiss.
Her hands find my biceps and she clings to me as if I’m a floatation device and she’s drowning. My cock throbs between us and when we pull apart, neither of us is breathing normally.
“You drunk?” I ask on an outtake of breath.
She shakes her head, her silky hair brushing over her shoulders. “Buzzed, yes. Drunk, no.”
“Good. Let’s go.” I grab her wrist, tugging her out of the hallway.
She forgets to resist until we reach her table. Yanking her arm free from my grasp, she plops down in her chair. “Blanca, this guy thinks he’s taking me somewhere.” She jabs a thumb back at me and I smile at her friend.
“I am, and the name’s Dan.”
Her friend, a hot brunette, lets her eyes drift up and down my body. “I’ve no objections.”
“Hey, back off buddy, we’ve been buying these ladies drinks all night.”
“And that entitles you to what exactly?” Blondie inquires, her brow sharply arched.
It’s the guy from earlier. I bare my teeth at him as if I’m rabid, and maybe I am, because I’m willing to knock his ass out if he messes with me. Luckily, he takes a step back. Reaching for my money clip, I look at Blondie’s girlfriend.
“You good?” I’m not sure if I’m asking if she’s good with me leaving with her friend, or if she’s okay being left with the two dudes, who think they’re owed something because they started a tab for the ladies, but I pull out some American hundreds and toss them on the table.
She looks at my money clip and holds her hand out, palm flat. “I need your ID. My girl’s not going anywhere unless I have your name and address.”
I let her take a picture of my identification with her cell phone before putting it back. “I’m staying at The Marquess.”
“You rich?”
I shrug.
Her eyes narrow. “What do you do?”
Since it’s my last week as a man who doesn’t wear a fucking crown, I say, “I play hockey.”
She bites her lip to hold back her smile. “NHL?”
“No, but I do play professionally. I’m the captain of the Denmark national league.”
She nods and looks at her friend. “You want to go with him, Elle?”
