Page 28 of Lorcan's Obsession

My rapture was broken as her lady friends swarmed around her, laughing and squealing. Dom handed the gift to the loudest of her friends and kissed her on the cheek. It must have been that one’s birthday. Judging by all the kinds of sushi and sashimi spread on their table, the birthday girl probably liked seafood. Everyone held a glass of pink champagne in their hands, and Tristen raised hers higher as she gave a toast.

It was impossible to hear what she was saying, but a genuine smile graced Tristen’s features while she spoke about her friend. I was a smitten fool, staring at her slack-jawed, trying to comprehend whatever she was saying. They clinked glasses, and shortly after, Tris politely excused herself.

Fuck me.

That ass popped. And I wasn’t the only man in the club who had noticed her standing up.

As she came back from the bathrooms, each of her steps was calculated, and her eyes darted to all corners of the club. Was she looking for me? Was she as eager to see me? Why was she acting so cautious when she was ready to give herself to me?

The answer hit me like the smashing of a mallet against a metal gong. I was her target. She was the one chasing me, and I’d be discarded like a used condom once she got what she wanted. How could I be so naive? She practically told me I had ruined our one chance of fun.

Everything about her tonight spelled doomsday for me. That tight dress, the sexy pumps, that we-just-shower-fucked hairstyle were all meant for me. She had assessed me to perfection and picked out her best weapons to bring me to my knees. There was no way I'd refuse her anything tonight. Not a fucking chance.

Unless I beat her at her own game by denying her the very thing she was after: my delectable cock.

To say this was going to be an interesting evening would be an understatement. I was sporting a stiffy from staring at her. What would happen when that suffocating dress was off her body? Would I be able to stick to my plan for the evening?

I glanced down at my balls apologetically. "Sorry buddies, it's blue-balls buffet tonight."

It was going to be a painful first-time experience for them.

The club manager returned and notified me it was time. I buttoned my blazer and downed the remaining drink from my glass, then followed him down the spiral staircase.

Our eyes met before I reached her. We both stilled, equally captivated, drinking each other in with desperate longing. The deafening music blasting through the speakers and loud conversations from partygoers drowned to a hush. The world went on mute. It was just us. Me and her in our perfect bubble.

And then I saw it...

Her smile—my thousand-ship launcher.

I remembered my desperation when stalking her, how I wanted her to smile at me, how I'd do anything she wanted if she smiled at me. And now she did. Only this time, a foxy grin blended perfectly with the red color I wanted to wipe off her lips using my tongue, confirming her intentions with me tonight.

It was time to get the show started.

10

FIRE ON FIRE

Asking Lorcan to pick me up after Selena's birthday was a dumb move on my part. My friends would ask questions and declare their smutty opinions the instant they saw his drop-dead gorgeous face, six-four height, and body carved for sin. But who said I was using my brain for the past three days?

During the hour-long drive from school to my apartment, I had a phone fashion consult with Selena. Tonight wasn't a date, but the need to impress and go the extra mile for Lorcan was all-consuming.

Selena suggested a wet and wild look for my hair to send Lorcan’s thoughts into a frenzy about what we could be doing in his shower. My lips should have a dangerous red matte color, and my skin radiant with a shimmering lotion.

We agreed I should wear the hottest little garment in my closet—a Herve Leger red mini—that Kora christened "One hundred percent slutty with a whiff of class." My shiny, black Christian Louboutin heels perfectly complemented the look like a satin bow on a gift.

The final touch: a delectable fragrance, shockingly gentle to clash with my fierce outfit. Lorcan wouldn’t know what hit him. By the time I was done, I looked like a ready-to-eat present.

At Club Zeta, we were celebrating Selena’s birthday with champagne and a full spread of our favorite sushi. The conversations were full of laughter and gratitude as we reminisced about our time together.

Our attention was diverted to two servers clad in black miniskirts and silver sequined bralettes approaching our table. They were carrying four bottles of champagne. Kora and I raised curious brows since we hadn't ordered extras.

The servers placed the bottles inside ice buckets and said, "With compliments for the birthday girl."

Selena swiveled her head around, clutching her chest with her neon-green acrylics. "Oh. My. Gosh. Who’s desperate for me tonight?”

For a few minutes, I wondered too. But as soon as I spotted Lorcan strolling toward us, I knew who had sent the bottles. My god, he was head-to-toe stunning. I didn't think he could possibly look hotter than when he was shirtless with the dark jeans hanging low on his hips in the elevator, but I was wrong. His runway model look left me too stunned to speak.

Unlike the neatly pressed, made-to-measure navy suit he wore, Lorcan’s tousled hair gave him an untamed and dangerous look. Clearly, he had the same idea as I had in going rogue with the hair. Hopefully, my hairstyle was having the same effect on him as his was on me. My fingers itched to feel those silky, inky strands between them.

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