Page 5 of Stroke of Shadows

He stepped closer, and Harper swore the air surrounding them ignited. Everything around them blurred, the lights and sounds dimming to a gentle roar as every nerve ending concentrating on the gorgeous man standing before her. She couldn’t even hear Clover having a full conversation with herself behind, or the music that she could feel vibrating the floor beneath her feet.

“Free trial?” She tipped her head back to better meet his hungry look. She’d had men look at her like that before, their lecherous gazes usually making her feel sick with their intentions.

But with him, it was different. Butterflies.

She’d never once reacted so viscerally to someone.

“Trial period,” he said, voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “Where you have unrestricted reign over my body. No strings attached.” A dark strand of hair fell over his left eye, and when he went to push it back, his upper lip curved.

“A try before you buy.”

“Exactly.” Sythe laughed, the bloody dimple in his cheek deepening. So boyish that she couldn’t help but smile.

Since when did she find dimples sexy?

When did she find anyone sexy?

This was out of her comfort zone. But then again, she was alone, a nobody in a crowd of strangers with no security looking over her shoulder. There were no expectations on how she should behave.

So how should she behave?

“Lots of thinking going on in that pretty head of yours,” he said, the air stretching taut between them. “A world-shattering orgasm, or a lonely drink at the bar. What do you have to lose?”

Everything, she thought. Except that wasn’t true, because she couldn’t lose everything if she didn’t have anything to begin with.

Harper licked along her bottom lip, his caramel eyes dropping to trace the movement as if he wanted to be the one to taste. She’d changed her mind. She’d never had a man look at her like that before.

“World shattering?” she repeated, not knowing where her sudden confidence came from. Her experience with sex had never been about pleasure or intimacy.

There were so many reasons why she should say no. That she should politely decline and wait for Mr Beckett like she’d planned.

His smile was pure temptation, and those annoying butterflies fluttered.

Sythe dipped his head, moving slow enough for her to pull away, to change her mind. Her lips parted on their own accord, her face burning with how little experience she had. His expression was anything but serious, his irises swallowed by his pupils as desire etched hard lines into his handsome face.

He didn’t seem to notice her inexperience, his lips soft at the first brush. “Say yes,” he whispered, teasing her with another gentle kiss.

A choice, and for once, she had complete control over her own body.

Her pulse threatened to break free of her skin. “Y… yes.”

He captured her lips once more, the pressure rougher, more desperate, with his tongue sweeping in to taste. He was ruthless against her senses, the heat of his touch seeping through the thin cotton of her dress as he placed his palm on her hip and dragged her flush against him. Except it wasn’t enough, the sudden need spearing through, urging her to take it further, faster, before she could overthink her actions.

He lifted her until she perched on the edge of the bar, putting her closer to his height.

Holy Light.

He gave a frustrated growl, having to bend to capture her lips once more when her dress didn’t stretch enough for him to step so easily between her knees. She would have laughed if she wasn’t going to combust into flames, her body aching to be touched by someone who desired her, and not her name.

His breath tickled the shell of her ear, his fingers teasing the hem of her skirt. “I can either make you moan here, where everyone can see. Or we can go somewhere more private. What will it be, darling?”

A slice of panic, one she doused quickly.

The opportunity to hide from her responsibilities didn’t come often.

He paused, body coiled with anticipation, as he waited for her decision. Making sure his eyes remained on her, she led them both towards the bathrooms, moving inside the women’s seconds before he followed her. It was a small bathroom, with only three stalls and a single sink, all in a clinical white. The tiles, floor, ceiling, and even the lightbulbs were all the same startling shade, a contrast to his absorbing darkness.

Everything about him was dark. His clothes. His hair. His tattoos. Everything but his eyes, which watched her like a lion would his prey. He was dangerous, even if he wore such a tempting smile, and she’d never been so turned on, her thighs slick with need despite him barely touching her.

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