Page 25 of Pink

Lev asked nothing.

He hadn’t forgotten, after all. If all he could offer was fun, then he didn’t want her to think he was willing to give anything else by making her think he cared. Oh, he did care. He just couldn’t let it matter.

Look at his life.

This wasn’t a place made for two.

Gigi drummed her fingernails to the bar top, drawing his attention down. Filed into an almond shape, she had painted them in soft pink that faded into white tips. “I just thought …”

“What?”

“I wanted to celebrate. For some reason, even though I really shouldn’t be here, this is still where I came. It’s not like I’m going to be around much longer, and I don’t really want to linger, but I do want to celebrate.” He opened his mouth to respond, not even sure what he would say, but she rushed to interject with a laugh and a quiet, “Stupid, I know. And you’re working so—”

She had started to push up from the stool. Lev’s heart about jumped from his chest at the very idea she might leave because, for whatever reason, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to see her again. He couldn’t have that even though every part of him screamed that he was being stupid by thinking whatever interest he had in this woman could go beyond the four walls of a bedroom. His mouth worked before his brain could stop it.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked.

She hesitated, glancing between the bottles on the wall behind him and then at his mouth. Did she want to kiss him? Hell, he’d love another taste of her. Another bite. A nibble. A single fucking lick. He’d tasted the salt from her skin for days after. Heard her moans in his dreams. The image of her spread wide for him on a bed was the only thing letting him beat one out in the shower every morning.

Fucking her had been a dream. Yeah, he would definitely do it again.

If she wanted …

“I’m not even twenty-one,” she admitted. “Just turned twenty a couple of months ago. Probably shouldn’t be drinking. Don’t you ask for ID?”

“Usually.”

The bar was trying to stay above board for a bit. Just long enough that the attention died down and the reporters stopped coming around to ask if the place was mob-connected. Lev knew the rules and what he should do.

It also seemed like this woman—still a stranger to him, really—could make him break every rule with nothing more than a smile and a flick of those green eyes.

Goddammit.

He kind of liked it.

“Pick your poison, Gigi. Whatever you want in the bar—it’s on the house. All yours.”

Her grin grew wider.

Sexier.

“Anything I want?” she asked.

He nodded.

She winked. “Let’s start with a whiskey sour. Then I think I’ll move onto you.”

Well …

He was just fine with that.