Page 7 of The Devil's Pawn

“Me too,” I sigh, remembering the events of tonight all over again while my lungs squeeze with every breath I try to inhale. “You know, maybe I will have that drink, after all.”

I call for the bartender, raising a finger to get his attention, but as I do, the stranger’s hand falls to my forearm, and my skin instantly tingles. His touch is rugged and rough, everything a man’s touch should be.

I turn to find his steely gaze locked on mine, and it’s like I’m being held in place. I’m captivated by those eyes, smooth and comforting, like a mug of warm cocoa on a winter day. What I wouldn’t do to wrap my hands around him.

“I’d love to get you that drink.” His voice drifts low as his eyes dart to my lips before capturing mine again.

“Yeah. Uh, okay.” My fingertips flutter over my neck. “Margarita, please. No salt.”

He nods, reluctantly drawing back, his hand now raised as he orders for me. Not even a minute later, I’m sipping on my drink, my mind completely forgetting that this bar is going to close in under an hour and I’ll have to face the music of my untimely death.

I don’t even know how I’ll do it. Maybe I can drink myself to oblivion and then hop in front of oncoming traffic.

No. Too messy.

I could probably hire a hit man to take me out. I do have my credit cards on hand. Much easier than doing it myself. But who could I find that quickly? Probably no one.

“Do you come here a lot?” His question pulls me from my dreadful plans.

“Sometimes. You?”

“Same. But there aren’t always beautiful women here who can’t help but stare at me every chance they get.” He tightens his lips, trying to contain that amused grin.

“I really wasn’t staring.” I roll my eyes, doing a crappy job at playing it off. “I was simply admiring your, um…shirt? What is that, cotton?”

He chuckles all deep and gravelly, that roguish smirk deepening.

Holy hotness.

“Wanna feel it?” He yanks the fabric on his chest, that inviting smile of his pulling me to do the same.

“Uh, no.” I shake my head with too much force as my heart thuds louder and louder. “Maybe next time.”

“Think now is your only chance, sweetheart. By the sound of it, you’re about to get married.”

I rake a hand through my hair, my eyes landing on the bar. “If I had any say, I wouldn’t be.”

“Hey.”

His palm is once again on my arm, and I quite like it there. I turn to him, finding a frown gripping his features.

“You don’t have to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I wish it was that easy.” My brows knit tightly.

Lifting up my drink, I finish it in one sip, then call for the bartender to order another.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” the man asks, moving his hand away.

I realize I still don’t know his damn name.

“Great,” I grumble flatly. “Now a complete stranger is telling me what the hell to do.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Leaning sideways, he rests his right elbow on the bar and the other hand on his bouncing thigh. “I want you to be safe getting home.”

“I’ll be fine, uh…” My face twists with a scowl. “What’s your name?”

“Dante.”

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