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“Can’t say I’ve ever met a woman who drinks scotch before.” I nod toward her drink. The women who tend to hang around here either try to look classy by drinking fancy wine, or they pretend to be one of the boys and drink shit that would make my stomach curl.
“Can’t say I’ve ever met a lumberjack before.”
I chuckle. I’m not used to sass. My fingers rub down my trimmed beard. “That sounds like it leaves a lot of firsts for us to explore, then.”
“He’s cuteandcocky. Tell me, is it all lip service, and when it’s time to turn words into actions, do you freeze?”
I try to disguise my smirk and fail horribly. “I could ask you a similar question. Do you only want to tease me? Or do you want a real orgasm you don’t have to fake?”
“What do you do for a living?” she asks instead of taking the bait.
“Already inquiring about my bank account?” One brow rises as I lean against the counter.
“Fuck no. I have my own money. I don’t want yours,” she answers. The more she talks, the more I like her.
“Head of HR for a bank,” I kind of lie. I am the head of a lot of humans who happen to be very resourceful. And we do deal with a shit-ton of money.
“I like you,” she admits. “What’s your typical Saturday night?”
Kill people. Get drunk. Continue working on taking over the world.Instead, I flirt. “You in my bed, and a good movie. While I allow you to recuperate before round two.”
Chapter 3: Katrina
Hetakesmebackto his hotel room, so he must be here on a work trip. The thought has me loosening up, because after this, we will both go our separate ways.
He rolls up his long sleeves, revealing beautiful artwork.
“I’ve never met a lumberjack with tattoos before.”
“I bet you’ve never met a lumberjack who knows how to use his wood, either.” He looks up from finishing his sleeves and smirks at me.
“Yup, it’s official. You’re a banker with corny pickup lines, or would that be a joke?”
He walks toward me. “I don’t joke about fucking.” His eyes light up, watching me for a reaction.
“That’s good, because I hate being disappointed.” I flash him a smile.
He wraps a small section of my hair around his finger. “Let’s see if you’re as good as your flirting.” He winks before taking a step away from me. He pours himself a scotch and silently asks if I want one by raising an empty glass.
I nod before surveying the suite. It has an ice bar fully stocked, with a beautiful living room, and what I can assume is a bedroom behind a door. He takes a seat with a drink in each of his hands.
“Lift your skirt,” he demands, looking powerful in his chair.
“Like this?” I playfully ask as my hands bunch the material up about an inch. My body sparks and jolts to life under his greedy stare.
“More,” he commands, taking a drink as he watches me over the crystal. I love the control in his tone. It speaks to my darker side.
I grip more of the material, shortening it by another inch, and he watches with a hungry gaze, his eyes following my fingers and the skirt. He swallows a sip of his drink.
“More.”
I raise it again, liking this little game we’re playing. I bring the material up so that he can barely see the edge of the purple silk beneath.
“Slip your panties off.” His voice is thick with lust, his eyes continuing to take me in, making me feel special.
“You looking for a trophy?” I lift my skirt so he see the material, just enough to leave him wanting more.
He places his drink down on the side table and rises with my drink in hand. When he walks over, his presence dark and dangerous, the idea excites me.
