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“It is,” I replied, inching closer to her. The smell of her strawberry perfume mixed with the whiskey heightened my senses. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll surprise everyone by actually falling in love.”
She set her gaze on mine, her dark eyes boring into my soul. “Are all the Callahans such smooth talkers, Tristan?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Not one of them has ever tried it on me.”
She laughed again. I leaned in a little closer, my breath coming in short gasps.
Adriana’s eyes flickered down to my lips before returning to meet my gaze once more. I could feel the electricity between us, charged with the possibility of what could happen if either one of us made a move.
But just as I was about to lean in and close the distance between us, Adriana pulled back. “We shouldn’t,” she said, her voice soft. “Not yet, at least.”
“Adriana,” I said. “If you decide to marry me, you should keep something in mind. I’m never going to let anyone tell my wife what to do.”
She looked at me for a beat. “You’re right,” she said. “Fuck them.”
I grinned at her words, pleased with the fire and spirit that I saw in her. “Exactly,” I said. “We’ll make our own rules.”
“Alright, Tristan Callahan,” she replied, flashing me a half smile. “Let’s have some fun.”
Chapter Four: Adriana
If I was going to marry this man, I was going to find out what he was like in bed.
That was the only thing my fuzzy brain could think about as I looked at his handsome face, his eyes so blue they looked like they were glowing from within, even on the balcony, lit with only candlelight. His chiseled jawline was sprinkled with a hint of stubble, giving him a menacing yet alluring look. His frame was impressive too, strong and athletic, clearly the result of countless hours spent in the gym preparing for whatever situation our dangerous lifestyle might put him in.
And then there was his skin. My god…he had been blessed with perfect skin, gorgeous dark tattoos curling over his pulse, down his veins. Fuck, he was gorgeous.
I was under no illusions; marrying Tristan Callahan had little to do with love and everything to do with power, alliances, and family honor. But that didn’t mean I was ready to go into this blindly, ignorantly assuming everything would fall into place on its own. I needed information, needed to know what made him tick, what he liked, and most importantly, what he felt about me.
There was probably no easier way to do that than taking him to bed.
I’d been drunk before and I trusted my friends not to let me end up in a situation I wouldn’t have been part of if I were sober. But tonight was different.
I had a mission, and I had to follow through.
With that resolve filling me, I met his electric gaze. Our eyes locked like magnets, a silent understanding passed between us. The tension thickened as he cocked his head slightly, analyzing my intentions silently. Savoring the moment, I let my lips curve into a mischievous smile as I edged closer to him.
“Okay, Callahan,” I whispered to him, so close I was sure he could feel my warm breath on his skin. “I hope you’re ready to play at our own game.”
A surprised and intrigued glint flashed across his eyes as he accepted my unspoken challenge. He leaned closer too, his whiskey-soaked breath igniting a longing within me. “Let’s go, Orsini,” he said.
And that was the first time he kissed me.
The taste of whiskey lingered on his lips as he pressed them against mine, his tongue gently tracing the seam of my mouth. His lips were hot and soft, and I melted into the kiss immediately. I parted my lips, granting him full access as our tongues warred for dominance. Tristan’s hands daringly moved to my hips, hoisting me up and pinning me against the cold pane of the balcony window. A reinforced glass had been installed there for security purposes–otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken the risk, drunk or not.
He deepened the kiss, his thumb slipping under the hem of my blue cocktail dress and teasing my exposed flesh. I felt the pressure from his fingers as he gripped my thighs, his touch both confident and dangerous. His body was hard against mine; every inch of him screamed raw masculinity.
A slow smile spread on Tristan’s face, making him look both dangerous and alluring in the soft glow of the moonlight. “Let me take you back to my place,” he said.
“And your dad?”
He winked at me. “He doesn’t have to know. Neither does yours, and don’t worry, my dad will cover for you.”
I hesitated for a moment, feeling the sudden urge to back out of this, but then I remembered my mission. I was here to get information, and if that meant spending the night with him, then so be it.
I hadn’t known the meaning of an Irish goodbye until that moment, but it was certainly more subtle than an Italian one. We were out of there in a flash, with a sly smile from Tristan to his father as we walked past him. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel his eyes on us even as we exited the venue and headed towards the street.
“I’m too drunk to drive,” Tristan said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Let me call a car.”
