Page 11 of Snow Harm, No Foul

He comes into the room with a beer in one hand and a frosted glass filled with red slush in the other. My mouth spreads into a grin, and his steps falter slightly near the table.

“Thank you, Mr. Shaw,” I coo, taking the drink and paper-covered straw that he offers to me.

“It’s Niko.”

“Niko,” I repeat, letting my tongue curl around the word for longer than necessary, tasting it. “It’s not very professional to call each other by nicknames.”

He sits back in his chair and palms his beer with a large hand. The one he had holding mine only minutes ago. I’m fascinated by the clean, blunt nails at the end of each finger. They look better kept than mine do despite my bi-monthly manicure.

“I’m not professional,” he says bluntly.

“Why not?”

“Don’t need to be.”

“Right now, or ever?” I ask, baiting him a bit.

He drinks from his beer. “Ever.”

Hmm. “Well, I’m always professional.”

I rip my straw out of its packaging and dip it into the red drink. Bending over the table, I bring the straw to my lips and flick my eyes up to watch him as I take the first sip.

The deep brown eyes staring back at me smoulder as they focus on my mouth. My blood heats below my goosebumpedskin as I let loose a soft moan at the perfect blend of fruit and alcohol that hits my tongue.

“This issogood,” I praise between sips.Soprofessional-like.

Niko adjusts himself on the chair, his jaw clenched tight enough that it looks painful. I flutter my lashes and close my eyes while taking another pull of the drink. When I unwrap my lips from the straw, a cold sensation hits my chest.

The chair across from me creaks loudly, and I slowly open my eyes to see Niko’s attention no longer fixed on my mouth but lower. Following his gaze, I watch as a bead of red slush slides down between the crease of my cleavage and drips low enough to disappear completely.

Completely innocently, I bring my finger to the sticky red line left behind and swipe up the drying liquid. With a smirk, I open my mouth and slide my finger along my tongue, tasting the daiquiri.

Niko’s knuckle blanches around the neck of his beer, and I wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to grip it hard enough to shatter.

“Do you have a napkin by chance? I’ve spilled a bit,” I say, continuing to stare at where my skin has stained red.

The poor chair whines this time, and I lift my gaze to Niko, offering a sweet, innocent smile. His expression makes my entire body tremble in anticipation. The open, blazing desire he’s letting shine through is doing wonders for my confidence.

I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.

“Actually, I think I have one,” I murmur before slipping a hand into my purse and searching for a pack of wet wipes.

The package crinkles when I pull it out and grab one before using it to clean my skin.

“What did he tell his friends?” His voice is a rumble I feel like a slap between my legs.

I blink, letting my hand go limp against my breast. “Whose friends?”

“Travis’s friends.” He lifts his beer to his mouth and gulps half of it down in one go. “What did he tell them about you?”

My temperature cools faster than it spiked. I remove my hand from my chest and ball the used wipe in my fist.

He won’t let it go now that I stupidly brought it up. Once he learns the things his son was saying about me, my chances to get him to make a meal of me will disappear. If he’s anything like his son, I’ll be shamed for the things I like for a second time.

Steeling my spine, I square my shoulders and decide to let it all out. I’d rather know what type of man Nicholas Shaw is now before spending another minute in his company.

“He and his friends used to call me Mount Ivy while making fun of my tits. Apparently, Travis didn’t like the way they shook while . . . you know. He thought it was distracting, and it was why he didn’t like to do it face to face.”

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