Page 46 of Turmoil's Target

The corner of his mouth lifts in that maddening half-smirk, both invitation and challenge.

I saunter toward him, hips swaying to the music, relishing the appreciative stares I collect along the way.

“Seraphina,” he drawls when I reach him, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “You look ravishing tonight.”

I trail a crimson nail down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Buy a girl a drink?”

He signals the bartender, his gaze never leaving mine. “Tequila for the lady. Double shot.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Trying to get me drunk?”

“Nah. Just want to see if you can handle your liquor.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Among other things.”

The tequila burns deliciously going down.

I set the empty glass on the bar and press closer, molding my curves to his hard angles. “Dance with me.”

It’s not a request.

His hands find my hips as I lead him to the dance floor, the crowd parting around us like the Red Sea.

We move together to the primal rhythm, bodies grinding, pulses racing.

His touch brands me through the thin silk, proprietary and possessive.

I lose myself in the dance, in him, even as warning bells clang in the back of my mind.

This is too real, too raw.

I’m playing with fire and we both know it.

Abruptly, he pulls away, his jaw clenched. “Be right back. Need to take a piss.”

He disappears into the crowd, leaving me hot and bothered, off-balance.

I curse myself for the pang of disappointment, for the treacherous desire still coursing through my veins.

Get it together, Seraphina.

But as I stand alone on the dance floor, I move off to the side, getting away from the hustle and bustle of everyone else.

My skin still tingling from his touch, I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with this delicious man.

If I’m the flame, he may be the fire that consumes me whole and leaves only ashes in his wake.

Out of nowhere, a hand clamps down on my arm, fingers biting into flesh.

I whirl around to find a beefy man leering at me, eyes raking over my body like a lion sizing up a gazelle.

His breath reeks of whiskey and cigarettes. “Well, well. Looks like you’re all alone. Why don’t you come play with me instead, sweet thing?”

My lip curls in disgust as I try to wrench my arm free. “Not interested. Let fucking go of me.”

His grip only tightens, pulling me flush against him.

Panic rises in my throat.

Why did Abe have to go take a piss right now?

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