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She was giving him two more bad nineties songs before she went over to that table and introduced herself.
“Rena, do a shot with us!”
Matt or Max or Maddie, whatever his name was, was like a puppy begging for treats. Every time she tried to just sit and enjoy her drink, he called her over again. And Rena? Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and it would be wrong to look a gift horse in the mouth, yadda yadda.
With a put-upon smile, Rena left her barstool once again and joined the little group of barely legals. Before she could even accept a drink, though, she was grabbed around the waist and hoisted up onto the bar top.
Jack or Jake or whatever grinned down at her as he pressed a hand to the center of her chest, urging her to lie down. “You’re the centerpiece,” he said with a lascivious wink.
As they filled her bellybutton with booze, Rena sighed and rolled her eyes. Body shots. That was so college frat. And it was, ultimately, what made her decision for her.
After the boys all had their turn, Rena swung her legs over the side of the bar and hopped down, snagging the half-empty bottle of tequila on her way. “Thanks for the fun, gentlemen,” she said with a smile as she held it aloft. “But it’s time for me to grab a chair and chill. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
She didn’t entertain their half-hearted pleas for her to come back. She just kept walking.
In the direction of that dark and dangerous man in the corner whose eyes hadn’t left her for a second. How did she know that? Because she’d been watching him too.
Those eyes scanned her from head to toe and back again as she approached, and Rena couldn’t help adding a little extra oomph with each step. When she reached his table, she stood before him in all her confident glory and plunked the bottle of booze down on the wood top.
“You look like you could use a drink. Wanna help me finish this?”
“Are you lost, little girl?”
Rena. Nearly. Collapsed.
That accent was killer. Just like that cocky little half-smile that broadcasted he knew he was a badass and he wasn’t afraid to own it.
Close enough for intimate inspection, Rena noted that his suit was indeed expensive, probably tailor-made judging by how well it fit him. The shirt underneath, a blood-red silk left unbuttoned to reveal smooth, bronzed skin, was equally expensive. She’d bet even his haircut had cost him a pretty penny.
Everything about the guy screamed money. Power. And she wanted a piece of it.
With a sultry smile of her own, Rena took a chance, betting on her prowess and the way he’d been watching her all evening that he wasn’t going to shoot her down.
When she stepped to the side to slide into the booth, a man she hadn’t paid any mind to nor noticed before stepped out of nowhere, his intent clear. Rena hesitated, but Mr. Expensive lifted a casual hand to wave him off.
More cautiously than before, Rena eased down onto the vinyl and dared to edge a little closer than she probably should, testing that invisible boundary line.
Extending an arm across the back of the booth, he watched her as if she were some sort of science experiment, a curiosity he needed to satisfy.
That was okay. She needed some satisfaction too.
Up close, he was even more delicious than she’d realized. Rena felt the woman in her purr with delight and anticipation. She loved the thrill of the chase—loved to get her hands dirty and her adrenalin pumping. It’d landed her in her fair share of trouble over the years, but living life to the fullest was her goal at the end of the day. If she didn’t spend a night or two in jail now and then, she’d feel somewhat remiss.
This man beside her? He was trouble. She could feel it vibrating off him, a pulsing wave of energy aimed directly at her.
That got her heart racing.
The longer she sat there, the more Rena wanted to conquer him. Something inside her told her he was a man who was used to doing the conquering, used to dishing out the punishments, but she was determined to show him what it meant to submit.
“I’ve had my eye on you,” Rena admitted unabashedly.
Expressionless, he said, “As I have you.”
Rena’s mouth split into an uncontainable grin, and she held out her hand. “Rena Grace.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he stared at it long enough to make her uncomfortable, a feeling she wasn’t entirely used to. Just as Rena’s smile faltered and she decided to give up and retract her hand, he released the top of the booth and grabbed hold of it. Instead of shaking it, however, he cradled her fingers in his in a show of gentlemanly manners that Rena had only heard about in old romance novels and brought it to his full, lush lips.
Hovering just above her knuckles, he set those dark eyes on her and, with that sexy, accented voice said, “Manuel Contreras.”
