Page 31 of The Devil's Deal

I take a step back to the bar, taking a seat on a swivel chair, while he takes the one next to me. He pulls it really close, leaning his thigh into mine, causing my inner ones to tighten into one another.

I stare at the liquor bottles, the TVs above, anywhere but at him. Every time his eyes hold mine, it’s like I’m held in place by an invisible pull, one that refuses to let go until we do something about it.

He waves for the bartender while I internally scold myself for being so pathetic. So what if the hot guy with the muscles in all the right places is flirting with me?

I’m Chiara fucking Bianchi. I don’t cower to any man. They cower to me.

But as I pivot my head slightly, I find those captivating eyes already pinning mine, paralyzing me, and every breath of mine seizes in my chest, burning through my lungs.

His gaze drops to my lips, his eyes telling me just what he wants to do with them.

My stomach bottoms out, the knots already there tightening. His thick fingers drag over the bar, nearing mine as he raises his other hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“What can I get ya?” Tina asks, breaking our intense lust-filled connection.

“Martini for her. Whiskey neat for me.”

“Who the hell told you I wanted a martini?” I ask firmly as Tina strolls away.

He rotates in the swivel chair, quirking up a brow. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” I grumble, threading my fingers through my hair. “But that’s not the point. Ask next time.”

Who does he think he is, ordering for me like he knows me or something? I mean, it is one of my favorite drinks, but that’s not the point.

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“I didn’t mean…”

The tantalizing way his gaze fills mine with want has me stammering. Those eyes glow like skin warmed by the sun, radiating down my body in waves of heat.

There’s a touch of a smile on his face, a genuine one. “Uh-uh, you can’t take it back now.”

I breathe out an unintentional snicker.

“Wow, she finally laughs,” he says.

“Barely.” I roll my eyes.

He angles his head to the left. “It’s a start.”

The drinks arrive and I quickly pick mine up, taking sip after sip, needing the lull of alcohol.

He doesn’t touch his drink yet, watching me enjoy mine. A quiet moment passes as he stares deep into my eyes like he’s trying to figure out a Rubik’s Cube.

It makes my heart beat faster.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” I say. “It’s kind of creepy.”

And also a little hot.No, scratch that lie. A lot hot.

“I apologize. I’m only trying to figure out how someone could be this beautiful.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “What’s your name, Casanova?”

“Brian Smith. What’s yours?”

“Chiara.”

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