Page 7 of The Southern Thirst Trap

“I like a challenge, Harlowe. Keep it up. We’ll have fun either way, but this way, it’ll be even better.”

His words are a hot promise spoken directly against my mouth, and I smile coyly at his words. I let my eyes close and run my nose along his cheek in a soft caress. “Promise?” I whisper into his ear before I bite the lobe gently and pull.

“Fuck,” he swears roughly, giving into the temptation and turning his face to catch my lips with his.

Suddenly, it’s like my new reason for living is to have his lips on mine, because holy shit can this man kiss. One of his arms is still around my waist, our fingers entwined together at my lower back, keeping our bodies pressed tightly together. His other hand has found its way to my throat, thumb and forefinger directing my jawjust soas he claims my mouth. I swallow against the tight hold he has on me and shiver, fully aware of how in control of this kiss he is while I’m plundered for his pleasure. He gives as much as he takes, and when he pulls back, I feel hazy, lust-filled, completely out of sorts and off my own game.

“You’re going to be trouble,” I say, hating the slight shake in my voice that gives away how affected I am by that kiss and the interaction so far.

“I was just going to say the same fucking thing about you,” he says, giving me a look I’d call calculating, but it’s quickly replaced by one that looks a whole lot likefuck it.

That second look is the one that gives me the confidence to lace my fingers in his again and pull him toward the waiting plane. “Think they will serve us champagne as soon as we hit cruising altitude?” I ask.

“Of course,” he answers, sounding a bit curious.

“Good. Champagne always makes me want to suck a fat cock, and from what you had pressed against me just now, I'm pretty sure you’re going to make my champagne dreams come true, and I want your eyes rolling back in your head before we’re above open ocean.”

The groan of longing that meets my ears has my smile curving up just as I’m about to hit the stairs to the jet. He pulls on my hand and stops me from climbing the stairs before he pulls me back against him, where I can once again feel the very large evidence I based my assumptions on.

“You are most certainly going to be trouble,” he says in my ear. “Now, be a good girl and let the flight crew get everything situated before you start shocking them. Save it all for me and the private room where I’m very intrigued by this champagne claim of yours. I don’t want to share any part of you with anyone else.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, winking and starting again for the stairs. This game thrills me, and I don't even know all the rules. We seem to be making them up as we go.

I swear I hear him murmur, “Fucking perfect,” before he follows.

four

Zander

“Well,that’sgoingtotank my insurance premium,” Javi mutters, climbing back into the Land Rover and slinging his phone into the center console. “I can’t believe I don’t have my insurance card in here.”

“The SUV didn’t take too much damage. You’ll just need to replace a headlight and maybe the bumper. It could have been worse,” I offer. “Besides, you had a bunch of beautiful women with all their attention on you. How often does that happen?”

He shakes his head and ignores my jab. “Are you going to tell me about that thing with you and Harlowe? When did you date her?” He usesdateliberally, and he knows it, but he’s not crass enough to call it what it usually is and ask when I fucked her.

“I met her at a few parties and industry events about five years ago, when she was on the cover of every magazine, like I said.”

I don’t tell him how her presence nearly took my breath away the first time I saw her in person, or how I pursued her wildly, knowing I wanted to be near her, in her orbit, and maybe shine as brightly as she did. I even found business reasons to be in LA or New York when I knew she was working there, so I might have the chance to run into her again. I don't tell him how she is the only woman I actually went after, rather than letting her come to me. How crazy I was about her.

“Cagey bastard,” Javi says, signaling and pulling into traffic after Harlowe’s black Audi vanishes in the sluggish flow of Atlanta traffic, and the pang of losing sight of her makes me want to rub at my chest.

Instead of giving in to that desire, I smile as if I’m entirely unaffected and lean back in my seat. I don’t kiss and tell, no matter how much Javi wants to know.

Seeing Harlowe in person rattled something loose in me. Memories broke away from the vault I had them stored in, flooding back to me even more than when I saw her photos on the Atlanta Haute List.

The rock salt rasp of her voice after diving for abalone and lobster.

The throaty laugh of hers that feels like it was connected straight to my cock.

Her slender fingers and the deft work they made of my swim trunks.

The way she would hold her breath just before she came.

Her devastated face when I told her there was no future for us, no matter what she felt.

I breathe in deeply and actively work to stop the avalanche of memories and slam the vault closed again. There’s a reason it was locked up in the first place.

“Let me know where she takes her car in for service and I’ll take care of her rental. She needs something safe. She has a kid to think of,” I say quietly, without looking at Javi as we finally exit the congested highway. I feel him glance over at me quickly, but I don’t meet his stare. A muscle tics in my jaw under his appraisal.

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