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“I know what it means,” she said, almost sneering at him. “What were you saying yes to?”
“You came in with something on your mind, cailín,” he said, propping himself on the front of the desk, folding his arms.
“My name’s Sersha.”
“I know your name.”
“But you get it wrong… on purpose,” she said. “Why would you do that?”
“Never been one for following rules,” he said, leaving his perch to round it again, going to the decanter in the corner.
Yeah, but there were rules and there was rude. Why would a guy like him care either way? More to the point, why did she care so much? Because of the tingle at the base of her spine and the shiver across her shoulder blades. She liked it. Damn her, but she did. Liked the rumble of his words, how they vibrated and rasped her most sensitive spots without him so much as looking her way.
This was a bad guy. Bad. Worse even than Evander Manzani. Evander still ran around with a gang of buddies, acting out while his father did the real work of the family.
Ire McDade didn’t answer to a father. He was a law unto himself.
“Why were those guys here? The City Hall guys?” she asked. “That other one. Onslow. He works under the City Clerk.”
“Aye,” he said, turning as he raised the heavy crystal tumbler to his lips. “He does.”
“Why would you have them here?”
“Calm nerves.”
“Calm their nerves? Why would coming here to…” His dark eyes locked on hers, the glass stayed at his mouth, but he wasn’t drinking. “You wanted them to see me. You used me.”
“Like you used me.”
“I did not—”
“Why’d you come to this club every night for a month?”
“That wasn’t using you,” she said, marching onto the rug. “Your club is here. It’s open to the public. I’m the public. I didn’t ask anything of you—”
“Has my boy not looked after you all day?”
“No,” she asserted, approaching the desk to put her clutch down. “Your ‘boy’ has followed me everywhere all day. I was afraid to go to the restroom in case he followed me there too. I can’t do my job with him looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“You’re in one piece, are you?” he said, strolling closer.
“Why the hell do you do that? How are you just so calm and…? You can’t imprison a woman and not expect her to be upset.”
Licking his lips, he nodded in the door’s direction. “Walk out,” he said, mesmerizing her with his gaze. “You’re no one’s prisoner, cailín.”
“That’s not my name,” she said, heavy heat crowding her belly when he stopped in front of her.
Her mouth watered. Something was wrong. It felt like ants were trailing up her spine to the back of her neck. The side of her leg touched the desk. Nothing was behind her, no trap, no fence or wall. Yet, as she slid along the hard edge of the solid desk, he moved with her like she’d asked for something. She hadn’t. Shouldn’t. Yet…
“Drink?” he said, offering the glass.
The moment it was in her palm, he swept her hair from her shoulder. She tossed her head back to gulp the potent whiskey. Was she aware of him stooping over her? Maybe. Yes. She was. And didn’t resist or object. Curiosity won out. When his lips grazed the side of her neck, her eyelids sank. The contact was… so delicate, yet… There was power. She shouldn’t be drugged by it, shouldn’t let him take the empty glass from her hand to put it on the desk she boosted herself onto.
Damn, she’d done it. Of her own freewill, she parted her thighs to accept him between them. As she responded to the heat of his kiss on her jaw, she turned her head, his rose and then their mouths were…
Oh, God, he tasted like her, like them, the burning liquid flavored his tongue, intoxicating her as the liquor had. Except this drug was all natural. Biology. Of need. Of want. Of primal urge to…
His palm skimmed under her skirt, up over her hip to the band of elastic resting there. It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t plant her hands on the desk behind her and raise her ass to let him slide her panties down her legs.
