Page 21 of Vicious Arrangement
The non-apology ramps up my ire as he drops his gaze pointedly to my glass.
“Nearly three hours late.” My hand crushes into a fist on my lap.
“And I’m starving. Tell you what…” He picks up my glass and sniffs it. “I’ll have what you’re having, ah, Aria, and then we’ll take it from there.”
“From there?”
“You and me, talking, laughing, getting to know each other.” He signals the waitress. “Menus, the wine list and another round of Manhattans, please.” Noah leans in, touches my hand and my flesh sizzles. It’s like a shot of pure adrenaline. “Unless you want something else?”
“No.”
Behind him, the waitress mimes off the chart hotness and I can’t disagree.
I hate him. I hate the fact he is off the charts hot. I hate the fact I’ve got some kind of insane chemistry with this arrogant asshole.
Because I know such an immediate, visceral reaction is rare, and I’m at a loss as to what to do.
Out of everyone in New York, why did it have to be him?
Chapter Six
NOAH
I brushthe guilt of being late aside. There’s nothing I can do about it now, and she’s looking at me like I’m both her favorite pin-up and a monster from the depths of some lagoon.
She’s pretty, and I think I like that untamed look to her hair more than this sleeker version, but that might just be because untamed brings hints of sex with it, something I’m all for.
If I have to marry her, I’ll take the sex. Hot as hell, thanks.
But I wait until the drinks arrive, not bothering with the menu yet, even though I’m hungry and she’s got to be, considering how late I ended up being.
I shove that away. I’m not in the mood for guilt. Her? Yeah, I could definitely be in the mood for her.
Just as long as I don’t stray too far off my path for the night.
She pushes her glass to the side as I take a swallow from mine. I know the rye whiskey. It’s small batch craft, and expensive. I almost smile.
The lady has balls. She sat for over two hours and ordered the most expensive whiskey this place has. And I’m willing to bet that if she left, I’d have received the bill.
I drop my gaze to her cleavage. Nice fucking tits.
“Eyes up here,” she snaps. Aria glares as she leans forward. “You didn’t seem surprised it was me.”
“The pretty girl who wanted to give me a public hand job? Ecstatic is the word.”
She ignores my gutter-level flirt. “Did you know who I was at that bar? Was running into me deliberate?”
I shrug. “Sure.” I let the sarcasm soak my words. “I always have deliberate run-ins that end with my dick being played with in the middle of a crowded bar and ruined shoes.”
Her cheeks streak red.
“I’m being serious,” she says. “Did you know?”
“No,” I say, taking another swallow of my Manhattan. “That was… fate, or something, and the spillage was all you.” I grin. “I managed not to spill. That’s some control, right there.”
Her eyes turn to slits of blue fire.
I sigh. “I did look you up, though, later.”
