Page 9 of Protected By the Sinner
“What color are your eyes?”
The question seems to catch her completely off-guard. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with eyes that color.”
“Can you even see them?” she asks, looking a bit confused.
I lean forward to test her reaction and notice a change in her breathing.
“Maybe not that clearly,” I say and take her chin between my fingers, forcing her to look at me. “Ah, there you go.”
I get the clear sense she wants to bolt, which is the opposite of how she’s acted until now.
She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to seduce me.
Doesn’t matter. Either way, the effect is explosive on my arousal.
“I think they’re yellow,” she says.
I pull out my phone and shine the light on her flawless face. “Yeah, they are yellow.”
I pull back again. I don’t usually deny myself pleasure, but it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone like Amber and I want to savor her company before having her.
Because there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s going to happen.
“Who are you?”
She quickly snaps back into seductress mode. “Amber Martin.”
“I wasn’t asking your name; I meant what you’re doing here.” I shift tactics. “Do you know who I am?” I already know the answer, but I want to see if she’s a good liar.
Again, she surprises me. “Everyone knows who you are, Mr. LeBlanc.”
I raise an eyebrow, even more turned on by the subtle taunt. “Mr. LeBlanc?”
“We haven’t been formally introduced yet.”
I don’t play along. “Where are you from, Amber Martin? You’re not from Texas.”
“Actually, I grew up in Texas,” she says but doesn’t elaborate. “These days, I’m from a lot of places.”
Before I can ask more, a waitress approaches. “Mr. LeBlanc, can I get you anything?” Her tone makes it obvious that “anything” could range from a drink to a dirty fuck right now. I memorize her face to tell Nolan to fire her. I don’t hook up with staff, but more than that, I don’t appreciate someonehired to work for me making their intentions so obvious during our first interaction.
I stop looking at her, and when I turn back to Amber, I notice she’s watching me.
“What would you like, Miss Martin?” I ask, deliberately using her last name.
“What do you suggest?”
“Are you used to drinking?”
She hesitates before answering. “Um . . . not really.”
“Dom Pérignon Rosé Goldfor my guest,” I tell the waitress without looking at her.
“And for you, sir?”
“Nothing, thank you. Now leave us.” I wait for her to go before picking up where I left off. “Tell me more about what you said about being from a lot of places.”
