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I ignored his surprise and watched the dancers as a slow tune started. It wasn’t as if I actually wanted Colton’s company, I tried to convince myself. But he wasn’t acting as if he was going to go away anytime soon, and…well, having someone to talk to—even him—made things suck a little less.
Okay, fine...he was amazing to talk to—entertaining, perceptive, and fuck...that little leap in my pulse every time he looked at me with those hooded, brown bedroom eyes was becoming addictive.
I’m not sure why I didn’t consider leaving. I’d been ready to walk out the door not too long ago. My tush had been out of my seat, my gaze had been locked on the exit, and my purse would’ve been in hand...if he hadn’t stolen it. But here I was now, purse returned, and I was voluntarily sitting by Colton Gamble of all people.
Just how many glasses of champagne had I stolen from my absent table companions?
“So what else do you like about me?” he prompted before taking a long draw from his cup and eyeing me speculatively over the rim.
I watched his throat work as he swallowed, wondering how that strong column of skin would taste if I licked it. Then I jerked my gaze away. “Nothing. You know how to manipulate people into getting what you want, and you give non-sucky speeches. That’s...that’s about it.”
No way would I admit how my thighs had trembled, or my breathing caught, or my mind raced with the most inappropriate thoughts every time he’d ever come into the bar.
“Nah, that can’t be all.” He shook his head before looking me straight in the eye. “What about my big brown eyes? A girl once told me I had penetrating eyes, like I could see straight inside her.”
I ground my teeth, mad at myself for just admiring his eyes. Then I grew mad at that girl for being stupid enough to inflate his ego even more by telling him how awesome they were. And then...then my anger rose toward him for talking to another girl at all, or getting close enough to her that she could see his eyes and compliment them. But at the end of it all, I was only mad at myself for the stupid knee-jerk sensation of jealousy I felt.
I mean, why the hell would I be jealous of another girl for merely talking to him? That was just stupid.
“No,” I said, glancing away from those all-seeing eyes. “I don’t think you have penetrating eyes.”
“Good.” He swiped the back of his hand over his brow in relief. “Because honestly, I’d rather penetrate you with far different parts of my body.” When his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip and he lifted his eyebrows in proposition, I realized that was one of the body parts he was talking about. Suddenly, I could only imagine all the places he’d like to penetrate me with his tongue.
My stomach clenched as if I could already feel the wet glide from his mouth working between my legs.
“Seventeen-year-old boys shouldn’t talk that way,” I said and knew it was a mistake as soon as the words passed my lips. I’d only called him seventeen to remind him how much younger than me he was. But we’d already had this discussion, and he’d already made it clear he didn’t care.
His brown eyes gleamed with awareness, dammit, penetrating my psyche as if he knew my saying that to ward him off meant I was down to my last bag of resistance…which I think I was.
“Thank God I’m not seventeen, then.” His voice was so low and sensual a full-body shiver seized me.
Not sure how to respond without popping out of my chair and racing out the door to escape the capsizing way he affected me, I clutched my cup and accidentally drained the contents in one guzzle.
“Shit,” I croaked when I realized it was empty. Now what was I going to do? I needed something to drink, something to hold in my hand and sip from to help distract myself from thinking things I knew I shouldn’t think.
“I can get you more.” Colton snagged the cup from my hand as he stood. With a wink, he said, “Be right back.”
With a crazy, stirring hitch bubbling in my stomach, I watched him walk away,
my gaze unable to tear itself from the back of his slacks and the way they molded oh so perfectly to his ass. When he disappeared out of sight, I kept sitting there, waiting for him to return.
I should’ve left, escaped while I had the chance. But the second he swept back into view, carrying two refilled cups, my blood raced, my breasts tingled, and my breathing went shallow.
This time, I didn’t hate the messy effect his presence had on me. I embraced the awareness and excitement, eager to see where it’d lead. I actually anticipated the next suggestive comment he made. Maybe I wouldn’t act so offended this time. Maybe I’d just be real and appreciate it for once, like I wanted to.
“Here you go, baby doll.” He sat and extended my cup toward me.
“Thank you.” I reached for it just as he pulled it right back out of my reach.
I frowned.
He grinned. “First you have to tell me what you used to have nightmares about.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Really?” He was going to play it that way, huh? Well, I didn’t have to play at all. “I could go get my own drink, you know.”
“You could,” he allowed with a nod. Then he shrugged. “Okay, we’ll take baby steps. How old were you when your night terrors began?”
I blinked, startled to hear him call them that specific term. It was as if he knew what I’d experienced had been far more traumatic than a couple harmless nightmares as if he understood personally. Which made no sense.
