“That depends on the man.”
My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. Huskier. Bolder. Sexier.
Like the person Der—nope, I wasn’t going to use his name—had always wanted me to be, but I never could.
Until now, apparently.
“It’s my friend’s bachelorette party,” I said. “Our last night in Vegas.”
“A visitor to my domain, then.” The stranger shifted to reach around and slide my water closer. His hand was long-fingered and elegant but roughened, with old scars marring his knuckles and a few places over his wrist.
He was tall, I decided as I sipped the water. I was five-two on a good day, and despite the help of five-inch heels, the back of my head seemed to be hitting the middle of what felt like a nicely muscled chest.
“Your domain? Is this place yours?”
“No, but I’m here often enough. Consider me a... regular citizen of the Vegas nightlife kingdom.”
Our tequila arrived, and when the bartender stepped away again, I was able to glean a few more details in the mirror behind the bar.
Hewastall. Very tall—at least six-two or six-three—and broad, bound up in a suit that had to be custom by the way it hugged a pair of shoulders that could easily carry me up a flight of stairs or ten. His face was hidden by bottles, but I could see the outline of hair that was shorn on the sides but on top burst into a mop of curls that refused to be tamed with gel. Despite his sophistication, there was something slightly savage about the man, as if the tailored clothing and urbane speech were attempts to mask a messier, wilder creature within.
“Curious, are we?” His finger grazed my arm again, then traveled up to my bare shoulder.
I should have been embarrassed. Or maybe darted under those arms and made my escape. Ididlike what I saw, but there was also the fact that everything about the man screamed danger.
Instead, I leaned back into him. Just slightly. Just enough to catch sight of an impossibly sharp jawline and the shadow of a full mouth.
He purred.
“Depends.” I arched my neck to allow that finger to tickle the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “Are you as good as you think you are?”
One side of his mouth hooked into a smirk. “Better.”
“Arrogant.”
“Experienced.”
“That doesn’t necessarily equate to skill.”
“With me, it does. Here.” His other hand lifted from the bar so that he could offer his wrist. “Lick it.”
It wasn’t until he picked up the salt shaker the bartender had brought with our shots that I realized what he was doing. As if I were in a trance, I leaned down and licked the arm of a complete stranger.
Behind me, his whole body shivered. Mine did the same. I must have been really drunk, because this man was freaking delicious.
He sprinkled his dampened wrist with the salt, then leaned down to run his nose over my neck. “May I?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking, but I wanted to know, so I nodded. “Sh-sure.”
His tongue took a generous swipe at the base of my neck. “Fuck.” His voice shook slightly. “You taste a treat, sweetheart.”
Somewhere in there, therofsweetheartflattened, like some friends I knew from the Northeast. It made me shiver.
He applied salt to the spot he’d just licked, then pulled our shots closer along with the cut limes served in a ramekin before offering me his salted wrist. “Cheers, little nymph.”
Without thinking twice, I licked his wrist again, this time a bit more than was strictly necessary to get all the salt, then tipped back the best tequila I’d ever had in my life and followed it with the lime.
By the time I was finished, the stranger’s knuckles had gone white from gripping the bar so hard. “Jesus. That tongue is fuckin’ wicked.”
