Page 76 of Inflict

When Connor couldn’t seem to distract her by stroking her arm, he moved to her hair, playing with the silky strands and curling the waves around his fingers just tight enough that she could feel him tugging. Evelyn’s smile grew a wee bit wicked under the low lighting, and Connor knew he damn near had her, then.

He was terribly happy that she was enjoying her night out, even if he hadn’t exactly planned for all the things they ended up doing. But now, he was ready to move on, perhaps get her back to the brownstone, and see what she wanted from there.

It’d been two weeks since she’d given him the pleasure of putting something beautiful on her body that would never be removed … two weeks since he had watched her twist and cry out under her own hands, giving into her own wants.

He’d not entertained the idea again, unsure if he had crossed a line the first time, though he was more than willing to jump the feck over it a second time, if given the chance. But it wasn’t about him, she had to make that choice on her own, because she wanted it. It was as simple as that.

She hadn’t asked.

She needed to ask.

Evelyn eventually tugged his hand out of her hair, and set it in her lap, intertwining their fingers tightly together as if to keep Connor still. It didn’t take long before she was tracing the ink on the back of his hand to where the tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeve of his dress shirt.

“Every time I look, I find something new,” Evelyn murmured.

“One of the good things about turning your mind and thoughts into art, and putting them on your body,” he replied.

“What’s a bloody crown have to do with your thoughts and mind, then?”

Connor didn’t have an easy or simple answer for that one. “Only the bloodiest ones wear the crown.”

“Oh.”

His explanation didn’t seem to thwart her curiosity, as she continued peering over the tattoos around the main one, others that helped to make up the starting of a sleeve. It covered his whole arm.

“I don’t like this very much,” Evelyn said.

“Hmm, love?”

His mind was entirely somewhere else, clearly.

She held out the wine glass, still nearly full. “Maybe wine isn’t my thing.”

Connor laughed low, taking the long-stemmed glass from her hand. “Maybe we’ll try whiskey next time, and see if we can get a bit of that Irish out of you.”

“Maybe.”

Her pretty features took on a more demure look in the low light of the bar, and Connor couldn’t help himself when he traced the line of her cupid’s bow on her upper lip with the tip of his thumb. His next move was simply out of instinct, because she hadn’t shied away from his touch, and instead, smiled.

Connor’s hand slid around the back of Evelyn’s neck, and he pulled her forward, determined to get a taste of her pretty mouth. Her lips met his soft and sweet, but that wasn’t nearly enough for him. He’d wanted a taste, not a feckin’ tease. He only needed to nip on her bottom lip to get the response he wanted, and her mouth opened for him. The tart wine and heat of her mouth was lovely, so much so that he damn near forgot where they were in those few brief seconds.

It was Evelyn who pulled away.

“We should go,” she whispered, still close enough to him to place another kiss on his lips. “Shouldn’t we?”

Oh, yes.

He was very much ready to go.

“Enjoy the rest of the song,” Connor told her. “I’ll take these glasses back and we’ll head out.”

Evelyn nodded. “All right.”

Connor headed for the bar, got rid of the glasses, paid for the tab, and turned back toward the stage, only to see a sight that had his blood boiling. He hadn’t been gone very long—two minutes at the most—but apparently, that didn’t matter to some people.

Or rather, it didn’t matter to the man now sitting a wee bit too close to Evelyn on the leather sectional facing the stage. Connor could tell, even from his position, that the man’s presence was making Evelyn uncomfortable just by being near her. The guy leaned in closer, and Evelyn moved away accordingly, but that didn’t stop the foolish fecker from moving in again.

It was her stiff spine and darting gaze that spoke of something worse to Connor, especially when her stare found him, wide and worried.