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“That’s certainly an understatement,” I blurt out in surprise. Regardless, something that could be shock makes my brow furrow. Evelyn King called me mean. Until now, she was one of the few people who never insulted me, at least not to my face.
“That’s why people don’t like to be around you,” she adds softly. “And do you want to know the truth? I wasn’t shocked that you were associated with a place like the Red Room because of the sex or debauchery.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes…really.”
“Then enlighten me.” I take a step toward her. Dare I say it? I’m bloody curious. “Why was prim and proper Evelyn King so shocked, then?”
She inhales sharply and draws herself to her full height. Even then, she’s still forced to crane her neck to look me in the eye. “Because… to be honest, you are the very last manIwould ever want to meet if I belonged to one of those clubs.”
It takes me nearly a full minute to discern what she means.The very last man…
I throw my head back and laugh. Long. Hard. I can’t stop myself. When I finally fall silent, her cheeks match the color of the wine stains over the carpet.
“Oh, Evelyn, you have one thing correct—youare the very last woman that I would ever even agree to meet anywhere, let alone the Red Room.”
She withstands the barb with only a slight wince to reveal how much it stings. “I’m not saying that you aren’t handsome,” she clarifies, leaving me even more unsure of her meaning. “That’s what makes it worse, I think. But, you’re selfish. You have ‘one and done’ written all over you.” She steps closer, and her eyes dart to my hands as if the words were scribbled over my knuckles. “And I don’t mean to say you’re a player—” She takes another step. “I meanonethrust because you can’t stand to be near anyone else for longer than that. Donebecause the only pleasure you concern yourself with is yours.”
“Interesting observation,” I tell her. She’s close enough now that I can feel her breath fanning my throat. “Considering that, as far as I know, we’ve certainly never fucked.”
In reality, at least.
She shrugs. “Your exes love to talk to the tabloids. It’s not exactly an open secret that pleasing a woman during sex isn’t your forte.”
I should have rang security and left her there. A childish sparring match with Evelyn King is the last damn thing I need to cap off this day. Though, there’s a bloody first time for everything.
“As ifyouare an expert on sex,” I tell her. In three years, I’ve never seen her successfully return a flirtatious compliment, let alone accept the offer of a date.
“Go ahead. You can say it—I won’t be offended,” she says through gritted teeth. “I may besinglebut trust me, that makes me more of an expert on pleasing a woman than you. At least…”
“At least what?” Somehow my mouth is near her ear. I can sense every ragged inhale she takes. Smell every damn bit of rose perfume seeping from her pores.
She squares her jaw again and forces her gaze to meet mine without flinching. “At least I know how to get a woman off.”
“Do you, now…” She’s too damn close. A wise man would back away. Tell her to leave. Even I know that there’s no point in taunting her further. But no one insults me. Not Gloria. Not Adrian Riley. Definitely nother. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing for both of us that you are the last woman I would ever want to fuck.”
An image of my nightmare flashes through my skull, as if my own subconscious is calling me a liar.
“Of course, I would be,” she agrees, her nostrils flaring. “Because unlike Portia, or Catherine, or Penelope, or any of your other past lovers, your money and a few photo ops wouldn’t satisfy me enough to make up for where you… lack.” Her gaze drifts pointedly to the front of my slacks, and I don’t even register reaching out until her chin is in my palm. I grip it tightly—not enough to hurt, but firmly enough that she can’t look away. Not that she tries to. Eyes blazing, she holds my gaze with every inch I lean toward her.
“Is that a dare, Ms. King?”
“Of course not.” Her tongue shoots out to dampen her lips, but she doesn’t pull away—her mistake. No, true to form, Evelyn King must have the last word. “I’m not cruel enough to challenge someone who doesn’t have a chance in hell of winning—”
She doesn’t expect the moment my lips collide with hers. Hard. Her first instinct is to pull back—and had she been anyone else, and had that nightmare not been so fresh in my mind, I would have let her go. Instead, my fingers latch onto the back of her skull, tangling through her hair to hold her in place. My teeth seize her lower lip and tug hard enough to draw a gasp from her lips. Hard enough to end this game. I’ve made my damn point. I don’t have to shove my tongue between her lips as well. I don’t have to palm her ass, feeling the swell against my palm as I grind my pelvis against her. I consider each searing brush of friction a spoil of war.
Thatis all this is—battle.
She’s panting when I pull away and swipe her taste from my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m more than ready to call security and have her hauled out right on her ass. The ass that’s still in my palm. The ass that makes her entire body arch when I dig my nails in through the fabric of her skirt. Hard.Harder.
Without warning, her hand flies up, the palm colliding with my cheek. I grit my teeth, still reeling from the slap, when I feel her free hand press against my chest. Her fingers curl, snatching for my tie, yanking it from its nestled position in my jacket. Before I can retaliate, she tugs, turning it into a leash that gives her enough leverage to force my head lower, my mouth within her reach.
Our lips meet again. Harsher. Rougher. Teeth. Nails.
When her tongue unabashedly goads mine, it feels… in-bloody-describable. But it doesn’t mean a damn thing. She was foolish enough to propose a challenge.
And I refuse to lose.
