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“You taste like oranges,” I said.
She froze, glancing up. “What the fuck?”
I shifted closer until we were inches apart and leaned against the railing. “You taste sweet like fresh oranges, down between those pretty thighs.”
Her jaw dropped. “I doubt that.”
“Are you even real?”
“What?”
My finger trailed up and under her chin. “Pretty blue eyes and soft lips. A curvy body that fills out that little black dress. A cunt that tastes like sweet oranges. How does it feel to be so fucking perfect?”
There was a moment of shocked silence. Her throat bobbed and a little breath slipped from between her lips.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m not perfect,” she whispered. “I’m pretty ordinary.”
That caught me by surprise. There was nothing ordinary about Iris Scavo. From the moment I’d laid eyes on her, I’d known that she was something special. There was an aura of electricity in her veins and every time I touched her skin, it ran through me like lightning.
I bent and our mouths met.
Fire pooled in my veins. Fuck me, she tasted so good and I needed more of it. She moaned and her mouth was wet when I pulled back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she whispered. “You kidnapped me. You don’t even like me. And I definitely hate you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IRIS
I stared at him, my heart thudding and my sex pulsing between my legs. What the fuck was wrong with this man? He’d been distant for the last few days, but after our encounter in his office, he couldn’t turn keep his hands to himself.
He leaned in and kissed me again. Filling my mouth with the taste of whiskey. My thighs shifted and my aching pussy rubbed against my soaked panties. Warning bells went off in the back of my mind.
I pulled back, dying of embarrassment. “You need to stop.”
The tension broke as we moved apart. I glanced around, grateful nobody was watching.
He shrugged, polishing off his whiskey. “Alright, it’s time for me to get some work done anyway. You stay in my sight.”
I nodded, relieved he was giving me some space. My pulse was beating out of my chest since his office and I needed a moment to catch my breath away from him.
He joined a group of men several yards away and I heard them speaking French loudly. His entire demeanor changed when he was in a group. His broad shoulders were pulled back, his body relaxed but on guard, and he was a lot more outgoing. I could tell he was cracking jokes even if I couldn’t understand him because he had the entire group laughing in minutes.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I pivoted, startled. There was a bulky blond man in a blue suit standing on my opposite side. He was almost as close as Duran had been a moment ago.
“Do you belong to anyone?” he said, a light Russian accent coming through.
“What?” I stammered.
“Who do you belong to?” he pressed.
“Um…nobody,” I said. “Myself.”
He laughed. I wasn’t sure what was funny. “You’re beautiful, let me buy you a drink.”
My glass was empty and, honestly, I was feeling a little afraid to refuse him. I nodded and he put his hand on my hip, sliding it around me and pushing me towards the bar.
