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Why did he have a way of befuddling me?
My nipples were fully aroused, something he no doubt was able to see. When he lowered his head, his lips dangerously close to mine, I blinked and forced myself to look away. “Are you following me?”
“Maybe I should ask you the same question.” He had the same sexy yet dangerous expression on his face, allowing his gaze to fall. Everything about him was subtle yet powerful. While I had the distinct feeling he was undressing me with his eyes, he did so in such a controlled fashion that I was left trembling, my pussy throbbing instead of feeling dirty.
And my mouth was dry, longing to taste his lips all over again. He lifted a glass, the shimmering lights of the bar allowing me to see the amber color.
“You are a man of habits,” I told him.
“I see you are not. Martini? I’m surprised.”
“Perfect for a girls’ night out.” Why were my panties damp?
“What a pity.” He glanced in the direction of where I’d motioned with my nod, his eyes becoming hooded.
“That you can’t handle four women at the same time?”
He leaned in, pressing his lips against my cheek. The searing effect was instantaneous. “I could handle four easily, beautiful flower. However, it’s not something I’d want to do. I’m a one-woman man.”
When he leaned back, I had the desire to sigh from his words but didn’t give him the satisfaction. “I would ask you to join us but it’s a special night for the four of us.”
“A celebration.”
“Yes.”
“Of? If I may be so bold to ask.”
“My divorce from a pompous, horrible, abusive pig. And my brother’s notoriously lavish and disgustingly repulsive wedding to a poor girl who has no idea the kind of reprehensible family she’s marrying into.” The admittance made me cringe all over again.
“A pity party for her soul?”
His question caught me off guard, forcing me to laugh.
“Yes, a pity party. To poor Ashley. May her soul not be blackened immediately.” I grabbed my drink, lifting my glass, curious as to what he would do.
The twinkle in his eyes drew me in like a spider to a gilded web. I wanted to hate myself for finding him so attractive, but I couldn’t stop tingling from his electric presence alone. He lifted his tumbler, slowly allowing our glasses to clink. “To poor Ashley.”
We heard male laughter and he shifted his attention away. While only briefly, it forced me to glance over my shoulder. The jerk and his three drunken friends were attempting to rile my sudden hero.
A shadow fell across his face as anger clouded his expression. “I’ll allow you to enjoy your evening. As far as your… husband? His loss. By the way, beautiful, welcome to enjoying the rest of your life.”
With that, he walked away.
CHAPTER8
Suzannah
Oh, my God. Oh. My. God.
How could he be here? Mr. Mile High in the flesh.
Why were prickles dancing on both arms? And why did I have a very bad feeling it wasn’t a coincidence?
I glanced toward the ceiling, half expecting Mother Nature to remind me of my promise. Being good for the rest of my life wasn’t a possibility.
“Whew. Who was that?” Morgan’s tone was almost accusatory, but she knew me far too well, always confronting me when I was holding something back. She dragged her tongue across her ruby-stained lips for emphasis, winking at the other girls to incite their entrance into what Morgan used to call the ‘bad girls club.’
That meant a tell all session, almost like spin the bottle, only the dare was never about kissing a boy but taking a shot of whatever cheap liquor was available instead. We learned every dirty, dark secret and desire the others had during those nights of our early stages of debauchery. I’d never wanted to do a ‘tell all’ again. What the girls knew about my family was enough to drag our names and already sordid reputations through the mud.
