Page 9 of One Weekend in London

“Next time you think about laying your hands on me, remember this…” My Southern twang drips with saccharine sweetness and a whole lot of venom. “I’m not one to shy away from turning a rooster into a hen in one quick, clean move. And believe me, when I strike, I don’t miss.”

The lounge falls dead silent, the weight of my words hanging in the air like a warning shot. Without saying a word in reply, the gutter rat scurries out of the bar and into the lobby, disappearing from my sight for what I hope is forever.

If we cross paths again, he’ll regret it.

Satisfied with his departure and ready to hightail it back to my hotel, where room service and a hot shower await, I turn at the waist and grab my clutch off the bar. But like the klutz my cousins often accuse me of being, I instantly drop it, my fumbling fingers losing their grip.

Its few contents scatter on impact.

Good job, Sadie.

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Growing more flustered by the second, I lower myself to the floor, mindful of my dress, and hastily gather everything before standing again. A certified hot mess, I have every intention of blowing this joint ASAP, a move that’ll hopefully help ease the embarrassment prickling my skin.

But it seems Kensington has other plans.

I spin back around, and suddenly, he’s right there, blocking my exit. Having stepped farther into my space, his heated stare holds mine, the intensity in his eyes sending shivers down my spine. And now I know for sure…

He doesn’t plan to let me leave.

CHAPTER 3

Sadie

How did I get myself into this mess?

I gulp as a fine sheen of sweat breaks out along my spine. There’s a possessive edge to my savior’s demeanor—or rather—his entire expression, that should scare me.

It doesn’t.

Instead, it ignites something dormant within me, embers of curiosity fueled by desire I haven’t felt in...

Well, forever.

“You,” he says, his tone firm yet somehow still inviting as he dips his face closer to mine, my lips parting of their own volition, “aren’t going anywhere.”

Get the heck out of here!

He may be more handsome than any model to ever grace the cover of GQ magazine, but if he thinks he can boss me around mere minutes after coming to my defense, he’s more wrong than a two-dollar watch.

If I want to leave, I will, just as soon as I’m good and ready. The problem is, with him looking at me the way he is, I’m no longer sure I want to.

Talk about a complete one-eighty.

“You’ve made quite the impression.” My knees nearly quake when his eyes momentarily drop to my suddenly dry mouth, and he clenches his strong jaw in a move that shouldn’t be so erotic. Oh, but it is. “Tell me your name.”

I could kick myself for how quickly I fling caution and safety to the wind by giving him precisely what he’s asking for. “S-Sadie.” I swallow, my throat tight as if a constrictor fired up on squeezing the life out of me is wrapped around it. “My name is Sadie Winslow.”

Something that looks an awful lot like approval gleams in his eyes. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sadie Winslow.” His tongue rolls over his bottom lip, and my belly clenches. “I’m Rhys Kensington.”

Rhys? Okay, so I love his name.

And acquaintance? How fancy.

Under normal circumstances, I would probably have offered him my hand in greeting, as my Southern-born manners dictate. But the thing is, he’s standing far too close. With our positions, if I extend my arm, my fingers will brush against his expensive-looking belt.

Maybe even his…

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