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And still. No reaction.
This woman was Aphrodite’s reincarnation, and he would know that if he’d spare her the slightest of glances, but he didn’t.
Instead, he absently lifted his glass to his full lips, tilted it back, and was met with ice.
She flinched when he slammed the glass down and skimmed his eyes across the top shelf selection of alcohol before returning his accusing glare to the bartender’s back.
Irritation swam within the volatile depths of his eyes.
I took another step closer, breathing deeply, loud enough, apparently, to draw his attention again. His eyes ran a leisurely path up my body, causing me to waver until he finally looked away.
I forced the hesitation out of me.
You took an oath. You’re doing the right thing. There’s no room for weakness.
A lackluster mantra, but I repeated it anyway.
Closing the distance between us, I placed my hand on his suit-clad shoulder. His muscles rippled beneath my palm, but I dismissed them as I smiled.
“Sorry I’m late, babe.”
I ignored his heavy stare, my heart pounding violently as I leaned over him. My chest brushed against his bicep.
I ignored that, too, and pressed my lips to his, captured his lower lip between my teeth, and tugged on it.
I waited for him to return the kiss.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Chapter
Four
It is a woman’s duty not to lower herself.
GEORGE ELIOT
ARIANA DE LUCA
He tasted like spearmint, whiskey, and lemons.
Like danger and ruin.
Corruption and sex.
I kissed him, but he didn't kiss me back.
Instead, he tilted his head to the side so Aphrodite couldn't see our faces, effectively cutting her off from our interaction. He was using me to get rid of her.
Hell, I had planned for him to do so.
But this was different.
This was him taking my plan and twisting it in his favor in his way. With his skill. As if it had been his idea in the first place.
