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There was another crowd of people who were too drunk to give a shit.
And lastly, we had the opportunists, the women and men who were here to catch the attention of someone who was probably as wealthy as the President of the United States – for a night of luxury and passion. Or, well… more than one night.
This was Paris’ finest hotel, and daddy dearest probably paid a shit-ton for mine and Lila’s stay here. My birthday present.
He threw money at me, in my face, even though, all I ever fucking wanted was for him to acknowledge my existence with a simple “Happy Birthday.”
I guessed he was too busy for that.
Yeah, fuck you, Dad.
Conversations swirled in a dirty cloud of smoke and the stench of cigarettes. My nose tingled at the strong smell of perfume surrounding me, and I downed my drink in one gulp. The alcohol burned my throat, but damn it, it was almost soothing.
“If you keep drinking like that, you’ll be drunk soon enough. And here I thought, you were taking me out on a date.”
Lila’s sweet voice whispered next to my ear, her breath fanning over the back of my neck. My lips quirked up as her fingers slowly trailed up my forearms and biceps, feeling every indent and curve of my muscles. Yeah, my girl loved exploring my muscles.
Years of vigorously spending my time in the gym, throwing all my aggression into working out and into the punching bags, had served me well.
I saw the way girls – younger and older – looked at me at the gym. Sure, my ego didn’t need any more boosting; my dick was big enough for that.
But Lila was the only woman I wanted to look at me with hunger in her dark-brown eyes.
I swiveled around in my stool, and my arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to stand between my legs. Lila pouted, her red lips shimmering in the dim light of the bar. “The bathroom line was too long, and our room is too far away.”
“Your hair looks fine,” I said, once again. Tucking a stray strand behind her ear, my finger lingered below it, brushing against the column of her throat. “You look beautiful.”
“Beautiful, huh?” There was a teasing look in her eyes, as she nudged her chin up, almost haughtily.
She was wearing a black sequin mini-skirt, with a small slit in the hem. The skirt wrapped around her ass like a second skin, and I almost growled at the sight. The black lace crop top hung on her curves, bringing my attention to her tits. This outfit should have been illegal.
“Sexy,” I rasped, bringing our faces closer. “Ravishing. I’d throw you on the bar and fuck you into tomorrow,” my voice lowered, whispering our dirty secrets into her ears, “until you beg me to stop because your cunt is too sore.”
Lila flushed, and her breath stuttered.
“But then again, I don’t want any other man to see your bare body or hear your desperate whimpers or… to see you come.”
That was for my eyes only.
Mine.
For a week.
Until I could convince her to stay… for longer.
Lila was stubborn, too goddamn stubborn for her own good. I had to play this game right, or I risked losing her forever.
Four years ago, I played a vicious game – to break Lila.
Today, I started a dangerous one – to win her over.
“You have a one-track mind, Coulter.”
“Yeah. You, Garcia.”
She rolled her eyes, before brushing her lips against mine, a teasing touch. “I… have a feeling you’ve said this line to a lot more girls than me. Is this your strategy?”
If she only fucking knew…
Lila had no idea that I was doing everything the exact opposite I had ever done. I never chased after a woman, never had to win anyone over, never had to be romantic and never had to seduce.
I smirked, and girls fell all over me. My last name and my dick were seductive enough.
Until her.
My best friend: the pain in my ass and my favorite hellion.
“I dare you…” she murmured against my lips.
“Now?” My fingers clenched around her hips. It was her turn to give a dare. I used mine this morning, when I asked – dared her to stay.
“Quite ironic, isn’t it? This is the same place you dared me to sleep with Lucien two nights ago.”
I didn’t want to remember that. The mere idea of Lila sleeping with that Frenchman had rage coursing through my veins. How? How did I think it would be okay for me to give Lila that stupid dare? How did I think it’d help me get over her?
Instead, I hated myself.
It made me want to fuck her, claim her even more.
The need to ruin her for any other man had been all-consuming.
Yeah, that dare didn’t work out as well as I expected.
