Page 51 of Charming Deception

“Well, it’s kind of hard to tell under all the stuff.” She breathes a slightly exhausted-sounding laugh. “She lives with three roommates.”

“I see. And that seems like a reasonable place to call home?”

“As reasonable as any option I’ve got.” Her amber eyes flash; that spark of challenge again. “How did you find me, by the way?”

I’d love to watch that defiant look melt into ecstasy as I shove my cock into her.

Christ. The sex thoughts are rampant tonight. Every time she looks away, I’m mentally groping her. Undressing her.

Bending her over and fisting her hair, wrapping my hand around her throat…

It takes me a moment to understand what she’s asking.

I clear my throat. “It wasn’t difficult. Your taxi driver was very vocal, at a certain price.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s unethical.”

“Ethics often fall low on the priority list when money is involved.”

“And that’s sad.”

“Is it? If you ask me, a lot of people have a toxic view of money in the other direction.”

She considers that. I notice she hasn’t touched her wine. “How so?”

“Money itself shouldn’t be resented or feared or misconstrued as evil. Especially not when it’s a means to most things in life.”

“Most?”

“Everything except those few things that money can’t buy,” I clarify.

“And what are those things?” she asks, like she’s checking to see if I know what they are.

She wouldn’t be the first.

“Freedom, to a certain point. Life, to a certain point. Immortality, certainly. And, of course, love. Or any true emotion.” I lift my wineglass and nod toward hers.

She lifts it for a sip, and her face lights up.

It’s fucking magical.

“Wow.” She moans a bit, licks her lip, and my cock hardens. “That is so much better than the shots.”

My mouth quirks in an unexpected smile. “You did shots?”

“Oh, yeah.” She cringes adorably, her lips plump and wet as she takes another sip.

I stare at her, oddly perplexed, as my cock throbs. How can one woman be so effortlessly cute and fucking sexy at the same time?

It disarms me. I’m not sure I like it.

I glance at my watch. “It’s not even seven thirty.”

“Is there a proper time to do shots?”

That has me thinking. “I suppose it depends on the shots. And why you’re drinking them.”

“We drink them before we go out on the town, to make the boys cuter.”

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