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“Oh. So, you know who my father is, then?” It would be a strange question to ask if I were anyone else.
“Jason Bell.”
A twinge of disappointment hits me. It’s silly, but it’s there, and I have to ask the next question that jumps into my mind.
“Did you know that at the club?”
“I did.”
Now I’m really disappointed. Because I was right. “That’s why you were watching me?” It’s not a question like my previous ones. It’s more of a statement.
“No,” he answers, and his voice seems to linger on the word with a hidden message of the thing I was hoping for. That he was watching me because of me. Not anything or anyone else.
The flutter of excitement returns, and a different set of nerves takes residence in my soul. It’s the good kind. The kind you want. The kind that every woman craves to keep her going.
I’m fairly certain he can see the effect he’s having on me, but I ignore my nerves and decide to play confident.
“Why were you looking at me?” I ask.
His bright eyes darken to the color of a stormy sky, and desire lurks in the corners of his stare.
“Because you got my attention, Serenity Bell.” His gaze drops to my lips, then does a full sweep of my breasts before climbing back up to meet mine.
That look right there sends a jolt of need to my groin and conjures every hot sinful thing I’ve ever thought of.
“You looked like you were dancing the way you wanted me to touch you,” he adds in a lower, deeper voice, then his smile brightens as much as I’m sure my skin reddens. “Were you?”
Jesus, I need air. I don’t even think Harper could answer that question with a straight face. And what the hell do I say?
What canIsay? My lips part, mostly from shock, and when I attempt to speak, I find I can’t because my tongue has twisted into all sorts of knots.
He chuckles and leans forward again. “Sorry, I tend to be very blatant. Not many people can handle it. I am curious for an answer, though.”
God, so I do have to answer him. I think for a moment about what I can say that won’t dig a further hole for myself.
“Um… I was just… having fun.” My voice sounds breathy, as if I haven’t had oxygen in a lifetime.
“Fun?” He says the word with an air of menace.
“Yeah. Fun.”
“Well.” His dark brows arch. “Now it seems you also have my interest. But that might not be such a good thing.”
It’s an odd thing to say, yet the warning in his words sends off a course of alarm bells in my head, each telling me he’s right. Right, because that dangerous vibe I sensed might be true.
“Why?” I deserve an award for holding back the quiver in my voice.
“Because nice girls like you shouldn’t want the interest or attention of men like me, Printsessa.”
Printsessa. I don’t speak Russian, but I figure that means princess. And I’m not sure if it’s wise for me to like the sound of it so much.
Or to likehim.
Am I crazy?
This guy is all but warning me away from him, but I’d be a fool to ignore the rippling energy of attraction I felt at the club. And what I feel now.
It’s stronger. So strong I can almost see it, touch it.
