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“Enjoy your game.”
Their eyes follow me as I move to the next table where I’m forced to endure the same kind of lewd comments and offers I have no intention of following up on.
With only two drinks left on my tray, I move to the table with Stefanos, the man I’m assuming owns this house and throws these ridiculous parties.
“Evenin’, sweetheart,” he says, and while he obviously checks me out it’s nowhere near as blatant and repulsive as the previous men. And the second he takes a whisky, he returns his focus to his game.
“Last one,” I offer, stepping around him to the guy beside him, but I quickly come up short when he turns to look at me.
My breath catches as our eyes collide.
Unlike the other men I’ve been forced to endure, he’s not old and gross. He’s… hell, he’s hot. Really freaking hot.
He spins on his stool to face me, abandoning his cards on the table.
My temperature continues to rise as he holds my eyes.
It’s such a relief not to have him check out my tits first that I don’t really know what to do with the eye contact.
“Thank you,” he drawls, his deep, raspy voice dragging me from wherever I just went.
“Oh, yeah. I’m all yours.” It’s not until his brow quirks that I hear my words back. “I mean… uh… It’s all yours. It’s not I’m. The drink… yeah, it’s all yours.”
Shit, Evie. Stop. Talking.
Finally, his eyes break away and drop. First they land on my lips and before I know what I’m doing, my teeth sink into the soft pillow of flesh, before they sink lower.
A gasp passes my lips as my body reacts in a way I’ve never experienced before. I swear my breasts swell in the stupid tight dress I’m wearing and my nipples harden, pressing into the velour fabric. I’ve no idea if he can see them in the room’s low lighting, but my cheeks burn bright red regardless.
He’s biting down on his own bottom lip when he finally finds my eyes again. The silver within his sparkles like glitter, and the obvious interest in them makes something south of my waist clench.
“I’ll take anything you’re offering, Vixen,” he purrs temptingly.
“Just the whisky then,” I blurt like an idiot before practically throwing the glass at him and hightailing it out of there.
“Evie, wait,” Charlie shouts as I shove the tray into her chest and hightail it in the direction of the bathroom.
My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s in both my ears and my toes.
Falling back against the closed door, I slam my eyes closed and will myself to calm down.
Nothing that just happened out there was out of the ordinary—if you forget about the fully grown men who are probably husbands and fathers leering at a seventeen-year-old girl with filthy and wicked intentions in their eyes.
Buthim.
He wasn’t old. He was… my age-ish.
His face is so clear in my mind, it’s almost like he’s still before me. His messy dark hair, his silver eyes, full lips, scruff covered chin.
The only negative was that he blatantly knew that he was hot, and usually, I find that the biggest turn-off there is. But he bucked that trend because his confidence, despite bordering on arrogance, was hot as hell.
Jesus. What is wrong with me?
He’s just a rich boy playing with his rich daddy. Probably preparing to take over his empire once he’s graduated uni.
He’s well out of my league. Even if I was interested. Which I’m not.
He was just… pretty to look at. That was all that was.
