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This wasnotpart of the plan. Dancing in Jasper Saint’s arms was not why I was there.
I should be chasing Connor. He knew something. Hehadto.
Jasper bloody Saint. What kind of arsehole name was that? Dripping of old money, no skill set, and a lack of morals. Funny though, he didn't reek of nepotism and elitism.
He smelled good. Like sandalwood and vanilla with something a little woodsy. There was a very small part of me that wanted to lean in and inhale.
Inhale? What the hell is wrong with you?
Oh right, you know what's wrong with you. How long has it been since anyone has touched you?Held you? Kissed you?
Let's be real, those kisses were far and few between, not to mention lackluster and uninteresting.
Jasper Saint didn't look like his kisses would be uninteresting at all. I dared a look up at his face, just a quick glance. Once my gaze tipped up to do my surreptitious exploration, I realized that he was watching me with those intense eyes. Now that I was up close I could see they were a deep moss green. The sheer force of his attention made something low in my belly pulse and ache.
There was a challenge in his gaze. Like he was daring me to stare back. So I did. Why should he be the only one getting an eyeful? The way he held me, close but not too close, made me so aware of the heat of his body wrapping around me, caressing me. Not tight enough to scare me, but definitely a presence. Surrounded on all sides.
His level of intensity was intoxicating, thick and heavy, and it lulled you into complacency by making you feel warm and safe. But that was a lie. There was no place warm and safe. And that security certainly couldn't be found in the arms of someone else.
Even though I knew that, the temptation to lean in was so strong. And I couldn't help the long slow exhale as his fingertips gently traced along my spine, coaxing the calm into me. Letting the tension out. Giving me the cocoon of calm I craved.
I felt weak. I should not be enjoying this. I didn't know this bloke, but I knew he was keeping me from Connor.
His fingers trailed sensually over my back, just the soothing I needed. Also, with his height and the broad set of his shoulders, for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Secure.
That's the complacency talking. And that's going to get you killed.
I quickly squared my shoulders and lifted my head. "Why are you so insistent on this date?”
He crooked his brow and gave me a sardonic smirk. “Think of me as a rule follower. I paid for the pleasure of your time. And you're a beautiful woman, so it should be obvious.”
I shook my head. “I don't believe you. Someone like you wouldn't be swayed by a harried publicist telling you to dance with a perfect stranger. So why? Is it the fact that I don't want you as my date that's making you all the more interested?”
His low chuckle rolled over me like warm whiskey on a cold night. “You think so little of me. You don't even know the first thing about me.”
Staring defiantly up at his impertinent gaze, I huffed out, “Don't I though? This is about your ego. You can't fathom that a woman doesn't want to date you. And to be fair, most of the women you run into are probably desperate to climb into bed with you for your fortune if the press release before the auction is to be believed. I'm sorry your ego was bruised, but I have zero desire to date you."
“Oh, really? You recognize that puts you in the minority, right?”
I had no doubt. Yeah, he definitely had the kind of looks that could make women push their best friend down the stairs to get to him. As in, ‘Sorry girl, there are no friends in love and war. He's mine now.’ And he was wealthy. I didn't know the contents of his bank accounts yet, but you could tell by the way he carried himself and the way he wore his suit like a second skin. He was comfortable in a tux. Comfortable in a way that said he’d selected this one specifically because of its expertly tailored fit. It made him look like a billion dollars even if it was a lie. “Your money and your wealth don't make you the least bit appealing to me.”
Liar.
He chuckled low. “Let me guess. You're alone here tonight. Not a lot of friends. Prefer a nice quiet life with zero excitement?”
That smarted. “You think you know me so well?”
“Oh, I see you, Sprite.”
I scratched my nose at that. “Sprite?”
“That's how you look to me. There is something delicate about you.”
If that comeback didn’t get my hackles up, nothing would. “I'mnotdelicate.”
“Sure you're not. And as beautiful as you look in a cocktail dress, I can somehow picture you with a short Pixie cut giving someone a proper what-for. To me, that screams Sprite.”
“Fine. Now I’ll just call you Basil.”
