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“Dance. Drink.” He moves one of the full shot glasses across the desk and in my direction, some of the liquid spilling over the expensive oak. “That’s what you’re here for, no?”
“You’re going to let me drink? I’m not even eighteen.” I know in Europe they start drinking at eighteen, but…this is America. Surely he will not risk his ass and…oh, right, I forgot who I was talking with.
“My old man let me have my first drink when I was thirteen,” he informs me, looking relaxed and bored with the conversation. I lick my lips and glance at his every time I think I can get away with it.
“Yeah, but that’s in Ireland. You guys are serious about getting drunk.”
There it is again that almost smile. God, he is hot. In a dark, brooding, don’t-fuck-with-me way. No wonder my mom tried to get in his pants after they got married.
Dahl! Shut up. Stop thinking about your step-dad that way.
Though he and I both know that he is way too young to play daddy to me.
“It’s not fun without having other people around.” I shift in my chair uncomfortably.
“Oh?” He cocks up one eyebrow, playing innocent but looking like the very thing I’d like to corrupt me.
“I’m around. That should be enough. Drink.” He motions with his head to the shot.
I hesitate for just a moment before downing the whole thing and smacking the shot glass on the table. Fuck it. I need a drink to loosen up. My step-dad is playing mind games with me and I have no idea where it’s going. I don’t even have time to get over the sharp sting in my throat before he pushes the second shot in my direction.
“More.”
I down the second drink, swallowing the burn in my throat.
“Third time’s a charm,” he says the second my empty shot glass hits his desk. Even though his voice is low and the loud music in the background is screaming at me to have fun with my boo, I can still hear him clearly. I drink once again, and feel the familiar, comfortable buzz alcohol gives you.
I smile. “Give me the fourth one.” I reach for it. His warm, rough hand touches mine and stops me, and our eyes meet. The electricity between us makes me clutch my thighs together and I’m startled because what the fuck? This is not supposed to be this way. But my nipples tend to disagree and they’re pointing right at him. The worst part is that I know that he can probably see it since the dress is so tight and I didn’t want to wear a bra. Thankfully, his eyes remain on mine. I say I’m grateful, but actually, he might as well examine my vagina with a magnifying glass because he can undress a woman with his eyes like nobody’s business.
“That’s for me, sweetheart. Now start dancing.”
“Here? Alone?” I blink.
“Again.” He looks into his full shot thoughtfully, and hot-damn, his cheekbone situation is intense. He could be a movie star were it not for a semi-vicious scar adorning the left side of his face. Although even that’s kind of hot because I bet there’s a good story behind it.
“You’re not alone, Dahlia. I’m here, and I wanna see you dance and have fun.”
“Dancing here in front of you is not going to be fun,” I mumble, confused.
His eyes shoot up from his drink and he tsks.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong.”
He turns the music so that it’s louder and plays the song on repeat. Reluctantly, I get up and start swaying my hips from side to side. It’s actually not that bad, considering the fact that I’m kind of drunk. I had a lot of alcohol in a very short period of time and my body is still absorbing it, but with every single minute that passes, I become looser, happier. A smile makes its way to my lips and I lift my hands to touch my middle as I move, caressing the outline of my boobs as I do when I dance.
“Yeah, I can see it’s a real fucking torture for you. Come closer,” he commands and pats his thigh, still leaning back and looking at me lazily.
I do. I take a step in his direction; he is still sitting down, looking at me like he’d just bought a lap dance with a Happy Ending, but he stops me after just one step. “Stay there.”
I’m getting bolder. I’m dancing wildly and it’s fun. I feel a little bad for Jade. She’s going to faint when she hears what went down here without her.
“Closer.” Graham’s throat bobs with a swallow and I take just one step closer and continue dancing. It’s a tease. I can feel it. He is getting hot for me and hell, I’m already that way for him. He’s not really with my mom, they’re together for the papers and the money, and I keep reminding myself that every time I feel like I should stop dancing, which is not very often.
I love this foreplay. It’s not subtle, but it’s ours, and I knew Graham Savage is the kind of guy who knows what he wants. He owns me, tells me what to do, and I just do it.
“Fuck it! Come the fuck here,” he commands eventually, downing his full shot and throwing the glass on his desk.
I sway toward him, a little faster than I would have if he were Theo James. What in the actual fuck am I doing? Seducing my step-dad?
