AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not really a whiskey drinker,” Isaid.
“So, tell me, why are you sitting here allalone?”
“That’s direct,” I said, with alaugh.
“I’m adirectkind of man,” hesaid.
Had it been anyone else, I think I would have bid a goodnight and left. I was curious as to what it was that kept me sitting there; that had me talking. I told him about my job and the conference I’dorganised.
Before I realised, I’d finished the whiskey, and my coffee. I hadn’t stopped talking and he’d hardly said aword.
“I’m sorry, I’ve talked a lot. Let me get you a drink,” Isaid.
“I’ve enjoyed listening to you, and I’ll get thedrinks.”
Without even looking up at the barman, he gently tapped the bar beside his glass and it was refilled withoutquestion.
Power: that was the word I’d been looking for when he’d first sat beside me. The man exuded power. A shiver ran over me and Ichuckled.
He narrowed his dark, very dark, brown eyes at me. “Somethingfunny?”
“No, just a shiver, made megiggle.”
“It's a pleasant sound,Miss…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m accepting your drinks, and I haven’t introduced myself. Lauren, my name’s Lauren,” Isaid.
I expected him to announce himself, he didn’t, and for some reason I didn’task.
“Are you here on business?” Iasked.
“I am.” Again, I thought he might reveal what business, but hedidn’t.
“FromAmerica?”
“No. I live here now, Lauren. Well, in London.” It was about the most I’d learned about him in the time we’d beenchatting.
He turned sideways on his stool; I did the same until we were facing each other. He had one arm resting on the back of his stool; the other held the whiskey glass on the bar. He was clearly a fit man. I could see muscles bulge under the white shirt he wore, and ink. He had tattoos down one arm, extending onto his hand. He caught me staring at his hand and I felt my face flush. I picked up the glass and raised it to my lips, initially to hide the discomfort I had begun to feel. It wasn’t that he made me uneasy, but certainly nervous. I tilted the glass and looked over the rim at him. He stared at me,intently.
“Where from, in America?” Iasked.
“Is thatimportant?”
His answer took me aback. He smiled; his voice was still low, seductive,even.
“I guess not,” Isaid.
“That was rude of me, wasn’tit?”
“A little, but if you don’t want to tell me that’sfine.”
“Then, Iapologise.”
He didn’t give me an answer though. Instead of doing what I should have, thanked him for the drink and left, my curiosity was further piqued. I liked the mystery of him. There was something quite refreshing about having a conversation with an exceptionally good-looking man and not knowing a thing abouthim.
We continued to talk, well, he continued to ask questions and I answered. I’d tuned out the voices that floated around the bar. It was as if no one else existed, justus.
I watched as he took a sip from his glass, and then licked his lips so slowly my breath caught in my throat. But it was his eyes, or rather the way he stared at me, that had me wanting to clench my thighs together. He’d roam my body, as if mentally undressing me, before bringing his gaze back to mine. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was loneliness, but all of a sudden a powerful need hit me. I wanted him. I didn’t know him, and I didn’t wantto.
