Page 14 of Draco's Defiance

Turning toward him, she acknowledged the smirk on his face, as though he could sense her reaction as well.

“What can I get you?” His question was hushed, as if it was a test designed to gauge how she’d react.

“What do you have?” Though even as she asked, her gaze scanned the bar, and she could see it was more a question of what didn’t he have to offer.

“Everything you see.” He swept a hand across the bar and around the shelves behind him. “And more. What’s your poison?”

“I usually just drink wine.” Did that age her even more than her quiet, middle-class lifestyle seemed to have done so far? “What do you recommend, barman?”

“Well.” Draco tilted his head as if he was considering her question. “How about a cocktail? I’ve been told I make a mean cosmopolitan.”

“Sounds great.” Moira had no idea what was in a cosmopolitan, but it sounded exactly the kind of drink she should be trying. Being there with him was all about reckless abandonment, and standing there, she wondered if there was anything she wouldn’t be prepared to try. “Thank you.”

“Take a seat.” He motioned to the selection of corner sofas at the other end of the room. “I’ll bring it over to you.”

“Perhaps we should discuss your legal matter before we start drinking?” The last thing she wanted to do was get tipsy and offer poor advice. Moira might be there for fun, but she was first and foremost a lawyer, and however much she resented her current employment, she had a reputation to maintain. “I want to have a clear head when I offer counsel, and—” turning to cross the room as instructed, she suddenly noticed the vista. “Bloody hell, Draco. This view is something else.”

“Thank you.”

She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined how sexy he’d look if she peered over her shoulder and caught sight of him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he went on. “It’s one advantage of having such a tall building and an elevator. Remember, this is only the second floor.”

“But this is the floor you want to screw me all over, right?”

She glanced around the minimalist furniture, scarcely believing she’d just had the courage to reply that way. What had happened to the prim and proper girl who’d stayed home to study? One fleeting encounter with a stranger and she’d flung herself into deep water with him. Her galloping pulse told her she had no regrets, but twisting around to witness Draco’s amused expression, she couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t already out of her depth.

“That’s right, gorgeous.” His large hand gripped the cocktail shaker, but every ounce of his attention was fixed on her. “Although, I’m sure you could persuade me to screw you anywhere.”

“Draco.” She shook her head, abruptly overwhelmed by her rising emotions.

What the hell was she doing? Sure, she sought her fix of adrenaline-filled fun, but wasn’t being there with him borderline dangerous? She didn’t know this man, so she’d been foolish to say she trusted him. She barely even knew where she was. She was no longer a starry-eyed schoolgirl. She should have been smarter than this, shouldn’t she?

“Are you okay?” As though he sensed her rising reticence, he put down the glass in his hand and walked around the bar.

“Yeah, I’m...” Hesitating, she glanced away, uncertain how she could possibly explain her myriad of feelings to him. She’d been enthusiastic to come home with him, had accepted his ride and a drink, so why was she having second thoughts? “I’ve just never done anything like this before. I don’t do things like this.”

“Go home with strange men, you mean?” The growing volume of his voice told her he was approaching, but she didn’t dare turn around to confirm the point.

“Yes.” Keeping her gaze low, she acknowledged his expensive shoes as he closed the distance between them. Pulling in a deep breath, she inadvertently breathed in his spicy cologne; a mistake that only made her feel headier.

“It’s okay, Moira.” He was right there, his hand rising to steer her in his direction. “I’m not here to judge you.”

“Thank you.” Swallowing, she steadied herself, embarrassed that she was wobbling in front of the most attractive and interesting guy she’d encountered for months.

“We don’t have to drink.” His same hand stroked her arm. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Christ, he was being so reasonable. She expected his confusion at her hesitation, and possibly even his anger. That would have been easier to manage, and maybe even given her an excuse to flee, but this calm approach was much more difficult to cope with.

“I’ll be fine.” She had the sense that the comment was intended more for her, than for him, but she certainly felt better as the words left her lips. “This is just new for me, that’s all.”

“Are you something of a workaholic, Moira?” His tone had shifted, taking on a sensual purr that seemed to speak directly to her trembling body. She didn’t want to acknowledge the way her nipples were beading, or the shortening of her breath. It was no secret that she found him appealing, but she couldn’t remember ever responding to a man like this.

“Definitely.” She watched his hand as it stroked the underside of her arm, imagining how it would feel if her jacket was removed and his fingertips were actually grazing her skin. “I work too hard.”

“My father always respected a strong work ethic.” He chuckled, although his tone was ironic. “That’s why he and I sometimes failed to see eye-to-eye.”

“You don’t like to work?” Relenting, she allowed her focus to rise to his shirt, but still, she couldn’t meet the weight of his stare. It was as though she knew deep down that once she had, there would be no going back.

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