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“One,” he says. We empty our glasses in unison. I resist the urge to wipe my mouth, but make a show of licking my lips.
“Mmmm…” I say. “That’s so good.”
“Like mother’s milk,” he agrees. That accent is really quite something. He’s watching my mouth as he speaks, and for some reason it makes me go hot inside…and it’s not the vodka.
He fills our glasses.
“Two!” someone calls from the crowd. Jerkface grins. I empty my glass. He does the same, fixing me with a level look; he’s either hiding his reaction to the liquor, or he’s as good at this game as I am. Although now that I have more than half a bottle of vodka under my belt, he’s no longer just beautiful…he’s goddamn breathtaking. Not only that, but I realize that somehow, we’re leaning in toward each other. When the crowd calls “Three” I can feel his breath on my face. It’s warm and fresh in spite of the alcohol. Not like boozy Hector who just made my stomach turn.
His eyes lock with mine and I can see something flicker in those golden depths. Dark pupils dilate and he flicks his tongue across his full lower lip.
I want to do that…
No, you don’t!
But I’ve been alone for so long…
When I look into his eyes again, there’s something unspoken there that echoes in my head. Or maybe not my head. Maybe someplace much lower. I press my thighs together.
“Four!” someone shouts. We raise our glasses in unison, empty them, and set them down. Our lips are almost touching.
I’m breathless.
Without a word, he stands, towering over me, and reaches for my hand. My heart rate spikes and I rise and take a step back to look into his eyes.
Holy shit!
Holy shit, I want him!
But it’s madness. Of course, it is. I don’t even know the man. Though the clenching in the pit of my belly assures me that there are some parts of me that would like to know him better. A whole lot better. Would it be so wrong? These weeks have been so damn lonely.
“Let’s get out of here.” His voice is husky. It ripples over me like a caress and I shiver.
“Okay,” I say like I’m under a spell. My voice is equally husky. What the hell am I doing? “Let’s go,” I hear myself say. And in spite of my better judgment, I don’t resist when he threads his fingers through mine. Then I find myself breathless with anticipation as I realize what’s about to come next.
And God help me, I don’t want to fight it.
Chapter 3
Scarlett
Our breaths are ragged as we make our way along the dimly lit corridor.
I barely notice the trip from the bar to the seedy motel I’m booked into, although the night air seems to have grown sharper.
“Here,” I say hoarsely, fumbling for my key, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I try to unlock the door. He already has my shirt untucked from the top of my jeans. His hands run over the expanse of flesh beneath my ribcage, fingertips slightly rough against my bare skin. I shove the door open and we stumble in.The room is nothing fancy, but it’s clean enough. The walls are faded beige, with peeling wallpaper in the corners. A small table sits under the window, holding a chipped ceramic ashtray and an empty bottle of cheap whiskey I’d picked up earlier.
“Nice,” he says, glancing around the room with a smirk.
“Thanks, I decorated it myself,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes. But it doesn’t matter. We’re not here for the décor or the ambiance. We’re here for each other, at least for tonight.
For a moment, we stand, staring silently at each other in the blinking neon light that flashes through the thin drapes. The dim light casts shadows across his face, making him appear both beautiful and dangerous. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the tension between us growing with each passing moment.
Then he strides forward and slides his hand behind my neck, drawing me up toward him, his lips glancing across mine, then closing over them. The force of his kiss sweeps me off my feet. I’m suddenly giddy in a way that goes far beyond vodka. And then he peels my shirt up my torso and over my arms. His fingertips graze my skin, as he slides the strap of my bra down, exposing my breast.
“God!” I choke out when he dips his head and takes a nipple into his mouth. Teeth graze my sensitive flesh with the tiniest hint of a threat to sink in, and I arch my back, tangling my fingers into his thick hair.
His hands slide lower, running over the tops of my hips before slipping down, curving around to cup my ass. He lifts me off the ground and carries me over to the bed as if I weigh nothing more than a feather.
