Page 15 of Playboy

At thirty-three, so many women still haven’t figured out who they are, but Hannah sure as fuck has. She owns every facet of herself, and with that, she owns all my attention. If she’s in the room, no one else exists.

As she takes another step closer, her scent—something sweet and musky, like a spiced French vanilla—swirls around us. And when she presses her palm to my chest, the heat of it instantly warms me. With a pounding heart, I stare down at those soft fingers pressed against my body. I don’t think she’s ever been this close. And she’s certainly never touched me. I’m pretty sure her touch would be branded on my skin if she had. It’s official: this shirt is retiring after tonight. I’ll never wash it again.

I drag my attention up her arm and across her chest to where the Bolts logo sits, then higher to her glossy lips.

Clearly knowing she’s in complete control, she drags her tongue slowly across her bottom one. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for anywhere fancy.”

It takes everything in me to keep my hands in my pockets. If I remove them, I’ll have her pressed against the wall between one breath and the next, with my fingers buried in her hair and my mouth on hers, taking everything I’ve ever wanted.

But there’s time for that.

First, we’re going to have a meal.

I’m going to show her I’m more than a pretty face and a fancy dick.

Affecting the cockiest smirk, I give her a slow, thorough once-over. “You’re wearing my name on your back, dream girl. It doesn’t get more perfect than that.”

She laughs that raspy laugh again. “Okay, Baby Hall. You can buy me a steak.”

“Oh, that’s not dirty enough,”I tell the waiter as he arrives with our cocktails.

Hannah ordered a dirty martini, extra dirty, like she always does, but it’s still almost clear.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

“You hate it like that.”

Eyes flicking from me to the drink, she lets her shoulders sink and nods. “Yeah, I’m going to need it darker than that.”

“Of course.” The man sets my drink on the table before disappearing with her too-clear martini.

“You paying attention to how I take my drink, Baby Hall?” Her voice is calm, completely belying the uncertainty swimming in her gaze.

“You order the same thing every time we’re out. I’d have to be an idiot to not know how you take your drinks.”

One brow arched, she forces her shoulders back again. “Or just not focused on me.”

I don’t even address that comment. We both know I’m always focused on her.

She coughs out a laugh. “Then you know I normally send it back when it’s not right.”

“You do. When you’re with the girls. I wasn’t sure if you’d do the same thing when on a date.”

Lips parting, she once again lets out a low, sexy, sarcastic laugh. The one that emanates from deep in her throat. “This isn’t a date.”

I pick up my lowball glass of whiskey and take a sip, ignoring that comment.

The waiter returns with her drink. This time, the liquid is perfectly cloudy, with three olives pierced by a martini pick balanced across the rim of the glass.

Only after Hannah takes a sip and gives him an approving nod does he disappear.

I set my drink on the table and lean back in my chair so the front legs are an inch off the ground. “So when does the next book come out?”

Head tilted, she zeroes in on me, as if she’s trying to read between the lines of my question. After a moment, though, she shakes her head and bites her lip. “Probably not until the winter. I don’t get to write much during the season.”

“Are you still working on the stalker series?”

Those lips lift in a smile. “First Noah, now you? Coach making you boys read my books or something?”

---