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“Do you know how many men will look at you tonight?”
“I imagine quite a few,” she said. “Including you.”
He swallowed and looked away. “I did not intend to be disrespectful,” he said, his voice low and gruff, not because he did not wish to apologize but because he was embarrassed.
“I can protect myself, Dionysus,” she said.
Her comment drew his eyes once more, and he could not help letting his gaze drift down her body.
“I am armed.”
“In that dress?”
“Yes, in this dress.”
He raised a brow.
“You don’t believe me,” she said.
“That dress barely covers your ass, Ariadne.”
“It goes well below my ass, Dionysus. Perhaps you need a lesson in anatomy.”
“If you’re willing,” he said.
She glared and then lifted the hem of her dress.
“This is my gun,” she said and bared a brace she’d secured at the height of her thigh. “And this is my ass.” She turned and exposed one firm, round cheek.
What the fuck was happening?
“Ariadne,” Dionysus warned, gripping the bar behind him until his fingers hurt. His dick was hard, and there was no fucking way he would find relief with her dressed like that the entire night. It did not help that he could not stop thinking about how he’d like to punish her. He wanted to smack her ass hard enough to elicit a cry from those full lips and bury his fingers in her wet heat. When she came, he would make her suck those same fingers while he fucked her from behind, his pace set to the sound of her choked cries.
But she was not someone he could ever do that with. She hated him and certainly would not appreciate his dominance.
She lowered her dress and turned to face him again, a smug smile tugging her lips.
“Yes, Dionysus?”
Her gaze skated down his front, catching the bulge of his trousers. Her smile vanished. He waited for her to meet his eyes, and when she did, he spoke in a cool and deliberate tone.
“Do not tease me,” he said.
She shuddered as she swallowed and then looked away.
Everything was worse after that.
The elevator ride seemed to last forever, and Dionysus felt like he couldn’t breathe, because if he did, he’d only smell Ariadne, and then he would never be rid of this aching in his groin.
“Finally,” he scowled when the doors opened, bolting from the small space into his garage where he kept a number of pristine vehicles.
He did not wait for Ariadne to follow; he knew she trailed along after him because those fucking boots clicked as she walked.
“Aren’t you a god?” she asked.
“Do you really have to ask that question?” he asked.
“I thought you could teleport,” she said.
