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I see the full lips, the shy curve of her mouth. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and my cock twitches. My molars grind together, and I return to reality with a thud.
The sounds, the vibrations, the surroundings, all rush back to me.
“I’ll have a club soda, no ice, with a slice of lemon, please.” I listen as she places her order and the song of her voice grabs me by the balls and squeezes.
My brows furrow and I glance at my own drink. A short laugh rumbles in my chest, which makes the goddess glance my way.
I stare into her gorgeous face, under the wispy bangs. The high cheekbones are a sculptor’s dream; as are her wide, green, feline eyes.
I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.
She’s easily a foot shorter than me. She is innocence and fragility in a tantalizing package.
I want to whisk her off to my secret world. The world I know could ruin me if anyone found out.
My eyes dart toward the bartender who is admiring her chest.
“What are you looking at?” I bark and his smile evaporates, his eyes shift and he turns away.
Good survival instinct, my man.
“Do I know you?” she questions. Her voice is a soft jingle that reminds me of a wind chime.
The sound of it dissipates my fury. I slide my gaze back to her face.
Those green eyes will worship me, as she falls to her knees and feeds…
My balls lift and ache. The vision of her lips wrapped around my cock is making it hard to breathe. I imagine how I’d hold onto any control when I have her kneeling, her full, pink lips stretched around me.
I lift my glass in a toast to her. “I don’t think so. But, it seems like we have something in common.” I tip my head toward my drink. For a moment, she looks confused. Then she spots the club soda, no ice, with a lemon slice in my hand, and her soft giggle rippling the current between us.
Looking into her eyes, my life has renewed purpose. I know what I’m doing tomorrow, the day after, the day after…
She is my life now. She is my purpose.
Shielding this magnificent creature from everything that is dangerous and cold and unpredictable in the world is my job.
But that’s you. You're dangerous, cold, and unpredictable.
Those who do business with me would say I’m dangerous. The few women who have ventured into my life would tell me that I’m cold and unpredictable.
And heartless.
She bites her lip.
“I’ve never seen anyone else order a club soda, no ice with lemon I mean. Besides me.” I lower my glass.
She grins, white teeth just the right amount of crooked, and I want to fall to the floor and drag my tongue up her soft thigh.
“Well, you must be a weirdo then.”
My mouth twitches into a smile. Who the fuck says weirdo these days?
“Most definitely. Aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah.”
She takes a step closer and my cock aches to snuggle inside her.
Her eyes narrow. “So, what's your story, weirdo?”
I picture that luscious mane spilling over my pillows in a tangled mess, while I pin her wrists to her sides and make room for myself between her legs.
“My story is boring, angel. You don’t look like you’re so happy to be here.”
“Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.” She frowns and her lashes flutter. Something about the expression, makes my heart sink then reality comes crashing in again.
She’s jailbait.
My gaze desperately searches for proof that I’m wrong. I stare at the untouchable gem. Everything from her bangs to her flawlessly plump skin to the rounded-toes of her pumps, tells me she has the power to destroy me.
Fuck.
Too fucking young to be in this bar. Too fucking young to be giving me a hard-on.
The object of my dirty, delirious, hair-tugging, ass-spanking fantasy could get me arrested.
I need to know. I need to be sure. I’m ready to wait for her.
“Why did you order a club soda? Not old enough for something stronger?” My question wipes the sweet smile off her face.
Her brows lift. “Because I don’t like alcohol.”
“Why?” My sharp question sounds like an accusation.
When she shrugs, she looks like a little girl. I want to break something. Or set the world on fire for this injustice. For bringing her to me when I cannot have her.
Not yet.
“Believe it or not, turning into a stumbling, puking mess never seemed appealing to me.”
“How old are you?” I snap. I have to know how long I need to wait for her. How long the law tells me I have to wait...
Her mouth falls open and she backs up a step. “What are you, a cop?”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
I take a slow breath, forcing myself to use a softer tone. “Tell me how old you are, princess.”
