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“You’re upset,” he stated.
“No kidding!” I snapped, keeping him in my peripheral. “I’m not some conquest. Not some little toy you can play with, mold, save, whatever.”
Whatever his end goal was, I wasn’t it. Because it sounded like he was interested merely in the chase.
“You’re confusing challenge and conquest. Do I not challenge you? Don’t you see me as something a little forbidden? Weren’t you going to tell me to fuck off yesterday when you entered my office? You had a whole speech prepared on the topic.”
My heart stunted and I faced him with shock. Blood rushed to my ears and I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Yes, I was going to tell you this was a bad idea.”
“But you didn’t. Because you want me. Just as I want you.”
“I don’t view you as a challenge, though.”
He cocked his head. “Think about that before you say it. I’d hate to make a liar out of you.” With his elbow resting casually on the bar, he leaned in and whispered, “And, in my world, liars get punished.”
With that, he pinched my nipple quickly and I stifled the smallest squeak of shock and awe. My body was not only turned on, but revved up. For a fight. For sex. I didn’t understand how he did this to me.
I thought about what he’d said, if I was lying about seeing him as a challenge. Maybe I did. Was I not just mentally debating on how to go about extracting more information from him? Wanting to know him, but realizing that digging into a man like Jack Powell would be a…Challenge.
He read my face and a victorious expression masked his. He knew he was right. And I now knew it too.
“Not all challenges have to have a negative connotation, Lana.” He brushed that same finger he’d just pinched me with quickly over my now-throbbing and hard nipple. “One challenge we could play out would be to see how many different ways I can make you come.”
“You can’t say things like that.” I glanced around. My body was nearly shaking from the heat and literal plucks of lust being delivered.
“I can say whatever I want. Especially when it involves you and the truth.”
“Just because you…” I waved my hand, getting a little nervous, “know what I look like, or whatever, doesn’t mean I give off this essence or need. And it certainly doesn’t mean other people are looking.”
“I’m correct in this.” He nodded his head at the bartender, who was behind him. The bartender, who was almost done mixing the margaritas, was staring at me with a lusty smile. I was just about to ask Jack how he could have known, but it was useless. In one conversation, he’d proven himself right about so many things, including me.
“Well, I don’t care if he looks or anyone else does,” I said, straightening my posture, determined to not give off this perception that I needed some random man.
Jack tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and slid a little closer. “I like that you don’t care. Because if I saw a flicker of interest for another man on your face, I may have a problem.” There was a playfulness in his eyes that made me smile.
How did he do that? Go from intense to grinning in point two seconds?
However he did it would be something I’d hopefully figure out in time. Because the challenge that was Jack Powell was one I was very interested in. And being caught in his sights made it feel like I was a prize to him.
“Don’t be mistaken. Just because you don’t care or try to ignore what you are, doesn’t mean it goes away. You have a layer of unease and innocence, but the light in you is bright. Every man in here knows you’re ripe, ready to be fucked, and wanting to be.”
“I…I have done no such thing to—”
“You do it. Everything about the way you move to the small smile you give, to the sweet little way you absently run your fingers over your neck. You’re telling me that you want to be touched. Crave it. Have passion, but have suppressed it.”
He was right. I did want to be touched. To be seen. But not by just anyone.
“Shy?” I offered. “Maybe I’m shy.”
“We’ll break you of that.”
The way he said that made every nerve ending flicker like lightning crashing through my veins. It was a turn on. Made me want to find out just how he could bring me out of the shell I’d been living in.
“Four margaritas,” the bartender said, setting them in front of me. “Oh, hi, sir, did you want a drink too? Bourbon neat?”
Holy cow, did everyone know Jack?
