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My cock was already turning to iron. Now it threatens to bust through my zipper and wave at everyone in the room.
I’ve always been one hell of a horny bastard but a two second touch from this girl electrifies me like nothing else. Without thinking, I clap my hand over hers, simply because I want to keep her hand on my face.
Haven responds by curling her hand into a tight fist. Brat.
But she doesn’t jerk away completely. I watch her face as my hand slides up to her wrist. I stroke the pulse point with my finger and approve of her answering shudder. She feels this magnetic pull every bit as much I do. She can’t hide the truth. Her breathing speeds up. The snake head inked on her chest pulses with every rapid beat of her heart.
I don’t put up a fight when she finally yanks her hand out of my grip. She clears her throat and crosses her arms. Shifts her weight from one foot to the other, like she’s trying in vain to tame the sudden ache in her pussy.
I’ll count this as a moment of triumph.
Haven looks past me and spots my unfinished cherries and soda concoction. She makes a face of disgust. “What the hell are you drinking?”
“A special brew. Sophie ’s idea.”
“Sophie.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “She’s still here?”
“She just left. Said her husband sent a car for her.”
Haven’s jaw tightens at the mention of her cousin. There’s sudden fire in her eyes but it doesn’t burn for long. She shakes off whatever emotions are raging and addresses the eavesdropping bartender. “Bruce, I’ll be in my office. Send Andrei to see me when he’s back from break.”
“Will do.” Bruce clears away the soda. I had no intention of drinking it anyway.
Haven curls a finger in my direction. “As for you, Mr. Golden Boy Quarterback, follow my lead if you think you can keep up.”
No chance I’ll turn that offer down, whatever it is.
Haven walks slowly. I suspect she knows my eyes are glued to her ass. The dress she wears molds to her body like a second skin. Those heels are pure porn fuel.
She takes a sharp right past the restrooms. A phone booth is still welded in place on the wall, like a relic of ancient history. A red emergency exit sign flickers straight ahead. Haven twists the knob on the last door before the exit. The hinges scream when she flings it open.
The office is tidy and simple. There’s a desk and a sofa and a filing cabinet. The walls are covered with the sort of wood paneling typically seen only in fading vintage photos.
Haven drops her keys and handbag on the desk before falling into her leather swivel chair. After ripping off her heels she throws them somewhat savagely into the middle of the room. Then she watches from her throne behind the desk while I close the door and take a seat on the sofa.
The chair squeaks as she leans back and folds her hands over her stomach. A long moment of silence passes while she evaluates me. Then she sighs. “Conner, you need to think twice before you do stupid shit.”
“Any stupid shit in particular?” I tap my skull. “Remember, I’m not the brightest star in the sky.”
She twists her mouth into a grimace. “That’s not what I meant. I heard you were looking for me last night.”
“Guilty. And now I’m curious. Do you have spies in every corner of the east side?”
“People tend to take notice when you’re shouting my last name into every open doorway.”
“Noteveryopen doorway. I skipped a few. But here I am so clearly my detective skills are top notch.”
“Detective skills.” She throws her head back and laughs. “What did you do, ask Tess?”
“No. But I can’t reveal my sources.”
The light rap of knuckles on the door prompts Haven to sit up straight. “It’s open.”
A pretty brunette pokes her head in the room. She smiles at Haven, then notices that I’m in the room and shrinks back. “Is this a bad time?”
Haven shakes her head. “Come in, Layla.”
Layla edges into the room, just barely. She wears a robe patterned with big flowers and judging by her elaborate hairstyle and thick makeup, she must be getting ready to join the dancers onstage.
