Page 44 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

“Try all the time.”

“Fair enough.”

Once I’d poured a generous amount into my glass, I did the same into another glass, then handed it over to her.

“Here.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting between me and the glass in my extended hand.

“It’s not spiked, I promise,” I assured her, my voice low and even.

After a moment of thought, she stepped forward and accepted it. Aria didn’t take a sip immediately, almost like she was waiting for me to take the lead.

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” she said, scanning the space.

“Thank you.” I drained a reasonable amount of champagne down my throat.

Only then did she sip from her glass.

“Why aren’t you seated?”

She raised her brows by a whisper. “Did you ask me to sit, and I didn’t?”

“You set up this meeting without my permission, but somehow you need my permission before you can have a seat?”

A quiet laugh slipped off her lips, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. As small as the gesture was, it shifted the atmosphere in the room to something I wasn’t ready to name. That force that always seemed to draw me to her was more powerful than ever.

I stood beside my table, watching her in the silence that followed. My gaze traced the curve of her mouth before dropping to the gentle swells on her chest.

A strange heat spread across my body, making my cock hard in my pants.

“It’s uhh…it’s rude to stare,” she said, her sweet voice slicing through the illicit thoughts taking shape in my head.

“You wouldn’t know I was staring if you weren’t staring back,” I answered.

“I wasn’t staring…I only felt your eyes on me.” She swallowed hard and looked away almost immediately.

I set my glass on the table and walked over to her with slow, measured steps. “I’m not gonna apologize for staring at you.”

She let out a quiet, nervous laugh. “Why won’t you?”

I stopped in front of her again, my gaze unwavering. “Because I only stare at beautiful women.”

Her throat bobbed subtly, and her breath hitched. Aria’s eyes dropped to the floor for a fleeting second, as if hiding her flushed cheeks. “I bet you’ve said that to countless women before me and have concluded that that line always works.” She raised her chin.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re the first woman I’ve said this to,” I said, my eyes boring into hers.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to,” I added. “But it’s the truth.” Everything in me was pushing me to hold her, pull her to myself, and kiss those lips so fervently.

But not yet. Not without her permission.

She drained the remaining champagne down her throat in one shot and lowered the glass. I collected the glass from her and set it on the table behind me.

In that proximity, neither of us said another word; we just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. This wasn’t my first time being cozy with a woman, yet for some reason, my heart was pounding in my chest.

Her lips quivered as she held my gaze, a glint of desire flickering in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths, her expression soft and vulnerable.