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Turning to my left, I see the nonchalance on his face, as if telling me what to do comes naturally to him. His brown eyes barely glance over mine before hungrily moving down my body. With a rough tousle of his brown hair, he glares at me silently, tilting his head as he tests my defiance.
“And why would I do that?” A smirk creeps across my face.
“Because I said so.” There’s no amusement in his tone, which causes my heart to still in both shock and intrigue.
There’s no way I can describe him as anything other than sexy, his tight, short-sleeved shirt reveal muscular arms, and his bone structure could be the mold for sculptures in Rome.
Without a word, he rises from his stool, walking toward me until his body is flush against mine, his hand dropping to my hip as he looks down into my eyes.
“Are you going to do what I want, or not?” He glares, and I swallow hard. His appeal only increases with the closeness.
“Yes.” It’s a breath, but it’s all it takes for his lips to curve up on one side before he spreads his hand on the small of my back, leading me toward the seat beside his.
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear and then settles back into his seat, raising one hand to call the bartender.
“What’s up, Adam?” the blonde woman says, flipping her hair to the side as she smiles at him like I don’t exist.
“Two gin and tonics.” He motions toward me, and the woman nods, looking a bit dejected before turning away.
A strange feeling of pride replaces what I think may have been jealousy. How on earth can I be territorial over a man I’ve just met? There’s something about him that I just want to be mine. I’ve never felt so aggressively attracted, or captivated, by someone in my life. It’s strange, but I like it.
He turns to me, his strong hand resting on my knee. “What’s your name?”
“Maggie.” I smile back as he nods his approval and mouths my name to himself.
“You must be quite popular for the bartender to know you by name,” referring to the blonde’s previous earlier interaction.
“She just wants to fuck.”
She returns with two drinks and a smile. “Here you go,” she says brightly, but I can barely focus after hearing his bold explanation for her blatant flirting.
“Drink up,” Adam says to me, and I do so without hesitating, slamming the empty glass on the counter as I finish.
“I want another one,” I jokingly demand.
“A woman who knows what she wants. I like that,” he replies in a dark tone. He gestures at the bartender again, moving his index finger in a circular motion to order another round from a distance.
“So, has this party been going on every night? I guess I missed out,” I say more to myself as I look around the dance floor.
“No, you came at the perfect time.” His hand slides further up my leg with every word.
My body begins to overheat as I sip the second drink, and Adam’s fierceness only intensifies my reaction. The way his jaw tenses while he listens is so sexy, I find myself struggling to finish my sentences. It’s been too long since I felt a man touch me, and the longer I sit on this stool, the hungrier I grow.
“Where are you from?” he asks, ordering a third drink.
“LA. You?”
“Oh shit! I’m from LA too. What are the odds?” His eyes gleam, the brown growing so dark they appear to be black circles staring back at me.
“Come on. Let’s dance,” he announces, setting his empty glass on the bar before standing. Instantly, my skin burns where his hand rested, missing his fiery touch.
Again, I don’t question him, and willingly follow him to the dance floor, the Rosewood aroma of his cologne leading the way. As the crowd grows thicker, he offers his hand and I place mine within his, allowing him to pull me through the droves of people while I use my free hand to continuously pull my dress down, as it rides with each step I take.
“Come here,” he growls, pulling me into his arms when he finds a small patch of space on the dance floor.
The music is booming, and my body falls into his with ease, moving along to the rhythm, bumping into his hard chest. His hands are on my hips, so I sway from side to side before turning with my back to him, twirling my ass in circles, brushing against his crotch until I feel him begin to harden.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Maggie,” he warns in my ear, but glancing over my shoulder, I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
