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He downed the rest of the liquid in his glass. “We’ve talked a lot about me. What about you?”
She smiled, wondering how long it would take for the drug to take effect. “What would you like to know?”
“To start with,” Christos stepped closer. “You’re a beautiful woman. Why aren’t you married?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It all goes back to being a strong woman. I have yet to find the man I’m willing to give up my independence for.” Except one. The guy standing in the hallway.
“You need a man who compliments your independence. An equal with whom you can share your life, not burden it.”
“Are you such a man?” she asked.
He lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps.” Christos tilted his head. “Do you like to dance?”
Jasmine nodded. “I love dancing.”
“Then we need music.” Tipping his glass, he drank the last of the scotch, turned, set the tumbler on the table and retrieved a remote-control device from a pocket on the side of the sofa. When he touched a finger to one of the buttons, music filtered through hidden speakers throughout the room.
He set the remote on the table beside his empty glass and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She laid her palm in his and let him draw her into his embrace.
For several moments, they swayed to the rhythm of the music.
Christos’s hand resting on the small of her back sank lower to span her bottom.
Jasmine reached behind her, gripped his hand and moved it up, on level with her waist. How long would it take for the drug to work?
The man’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I want a lot of things,” she responded. “All in good time. Right now, I want to enjoy the music with a man who knows how to dance.”
He grinned. “Some say dancing is a form of foreplay.” Before she could guess his intentions, he twirled her away from him and back into his arms, dipping her low to the floor.
While he had her at a disadvantage, he briefly brushed his lips across hers.
When he straightened, he staggered a little, almost dropping Jasmine.
Jasmine regained her balance, steadied herself and then helped Christos regain his balance.
“I feel a little dizzy,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We don’t have to dance,” Jasmine insisted. “Come. Sit.” She led him to the white leather sofa and urged him to sit. When she tried to sit close to him, he swung her around.
Jasmine lost her balance and sat across Christos’s lap.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Francesca,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to ease off his legs and onto the cushion.
His hands gripped her hips and refused to let her go. “I don’t know why, but I’m....sleepy. And... you’re beautiful. I want to...make...love...to you.”
She chuckled softly. “Then let me do all the work.”
He leaned his head back. “Mmmm. That sounds wonderful.” His hands fell to his sides. “I’m all yours.”
She slipped off his lap and tipped him sideways until he lay across the sofa.
He closed his eyes, smiling. “I’ve never...been beat...by a woman.”
