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Lisbeth put the glass to her lips, shot the fiery liquid, and was again met with Samson’s penetrating stare. She swallowed hard and forced herself not to make little choking noises as her brain flashed with warnings of hard alcohol in the form of shots. Sure, a few glasses of champagne were fine, but two big shots of Jack Daniels? She felt her body would rebel tomorrow if she lived that long.
Lisbeth set her glass down on the coffee table and stood. “I really should get back to Juliet.”
Samson pushed off the chair, and again she noticed his height and overall size.
“Nice to meet you, hun.” Madeline smiled. “I’ll get your contact info and give you a call about the party.”
“Please do. I’d be happy to work up a proposal.”
“Fuck the proposal.” Madeline waved her hand at Samson. “If he says you’re okay, that’s good enough for us.”
As the other men nodded their agreement, Lisbeth thought she’d have to change her logo from Luxury Lifestyles by Lisbeth to Events with Strippers or Parties for Prisoners. The shots of Jack Daniels were making her silly.
“I’ll look forward to it.” She turned, and her heel caught on the thick carpet. She wavered, grabbed the back of the couch, and cursed Mr. Jack Daniels, then felt the warmth of a large palm at the small of her back.
“You all right?” Samson leaned into her, and again she enjoyed the scent of his cologne.
“Just caught my heel.”
“You sure you have to go?”
“I have to get back to my, I mean, Juliet’s bachelorette.”
“Right.” When they neared the door, he stopped. “I do wanna talk to you about business.” He nodded to the Serpents. “Wasn’t expecting to have guests.”
“They’re very entertaining.”
“That’s one word.”
Samson fished his phone out of his pocket. “Give me your number.” His piercing gaze bore into her.
Lisbeth rattled off the number, fully knowing it was her number, not her business. This man and his mesmerizing eyes could be big trouble—a temptation she didn’t need or want.
“I’ll text you.” His palm cupped her cheek. “It was great seeing you.”
His eyes flashed with what looked like regret, or maybe she imagined it.
Samson’s hand dropped to his side, and their gaze connected for another second before she left. Lisbeth took a moment to catch her breath, but it was no use. Memories flooded her brain in an unending loop that always ended in misery.
It didn’t matter how many guys crowded around the stage or how loud the music was, Lisbeth made every song just for him, and when their eyes connected, it was immediate and electric. She’d exit the stage and often didn’t make it to the dressing room.
Samson’s hot kisses possessed her lips, his warm breath panting urgently into her neck as he fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. “I tried to stay away from you, tried to do the right thing, but fuck, all I can think about is you and your sweet body waiting for me.”
“I missed you too.” Lisbeth gripped the thin material of his t-shirt under the warmth of his leather jacket. “Don’t ever leave me.”
That was the second time he’d tried to walk away from Lisbeth, which only lasted five days. Five days of unbearable heartbreak as she watched him sit at the same table in the back of the Oasis, his contained, smoldering aura ready to pounce at a moment's notice like a cat on the prowl. When Samson was there, she’d always felt safe, like nothing could touch her.
Crazy, uncontrollable passion.
She’d never experienced such fierce intensity before or after Samson. They were all in for however long fate allowed them. They never thought about the future—the unknown only added to the mystique.
6
Lisbeth strode through the door, and fuck yeah, the back end was as hot as the front. Since she’d entered his office, Samson couldn’t stop watching her, comparing her to the girl he’d known so long ago. His gaze was riveted to her like some magnetic field. Lisbeth moved her bangin’ body smoothly and in control—nothing flashy or slutty. She was polished and professional, but there was a hint of innocence. Just like years ago, she still didn’t know how beautiful she was.
Ten years was a long time, and it showed in the confident way Lisbeth carried herself—not like the ice queen socialites in New York, who’d step over you if you were bleeding out—no, Lisbeth’s attitude came off as reserved, and sophisticated. Samson heard it in the way she spoke and how she handled herself. She wasn’t snobby or aloof, a self-seeking party girl looking to get with the club owner for status, or an employee trying to get a promotion.
Sadly, those were the three kinds of women he’d known most of his life, yet Lisbeth was unique and intriguing and never fit into any of those molds. He smiled when he thought of calling her to set up a meeting. Then he’d find out what made this older, wiser Lisbeth with the crazy long legs and the shy smile tick.
