Page 8 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Everinne shifted closer to him, gently pressing herself against his solid chest. “Absolutely.”
His answering grin had her wanting to drag him out the door right now and straight to her bed.
He edged his way back to the bar, bringing her with him, his hand maneuvering to the small of her back. Her entire spine tingled from his touch and goosebumps pebbled across her flesh. “What’ll you have?”
She didn’t care. “Whatever you’re having.”
He laughed, low and rumbling, and a flush spread through her. Swift and heady. “Are you sure about that?”
She simpered, offering him a throaty laugh of her own. “Pick your poison.”
The mysterious male signaled the bartender. “Two soul snatchers.”
The bartender nodded and started mixing their drinks. Everinne kept her eyes glued to him the entire time. When he handed them their beverages, she eyed the strange green liquid dubiously. She took a small sip and instantly regrettedher choice. The flavors of tart apples and sweet berries mingled on her tongue. The soul snatcher wasn’t only delicious. It was downright dangerous. Perfect for passing out in a drunken stupor and escaping an evening full of nightmares. She took another gulp, like she was dying of thirst.
Skulls, as she aptly dubbed him since she never bothered to learn the names of the men she slept with, turned to face her. He watched her over the rim of his glass, his gaze skimming the swell of her breasts before following the length of her neck, then settling on her mouth. He lifted his drink to his lips, slowly draining the entire thing.
“Where’d your friend go?”
“Home.” Everinne swallowed down the rest of her soul snatcher, matching him. Two could play at this game, and she was never one to back down from a challenge. But almost as soon as she set her glass back down on the bar, the world tilted, blurring in a swirl of colors, and she swayed into him.
He caught her easily enough, his hand settling comfortably on her waist. Cold seemed to emanate from him, the coolness from his touch seeping through her dress so it was almost like he was touching her skin.
Skulls shifted, his molten eyes lingering on her mouth once more. “What about you?”
She blinked, trying to force his devilishly handsome face back into focus. “What about me?”
“When are you going home?”
“When I feel like it.” Everinne swallowed hard. Her words were already slurring into one another. Whatever alcohol was in that green drink worked quickly, clouding her senses so she had to make an effort to remember how to speak properly.
“I can walk you back,” he offered, his thumb tracing idle circles along her hip. “If you like.”
Oh yes. She would like that very much.
Everinne hummed in agreement, leaning closer. “I think that sounds…like a wonderful idea.”
Everything about Skulls seemed like a wonderful idea. She knew from previous experience that it would take nothing more than tracing one finger along the stiff collar of his shirt or fluttering her lashes with the promise of temptation to convince him to stay the night. Feeling more than a little adventurous, she cautiously placed one hand on his upper arm and the muscles beneath her palm flexed.
Her smile turned purely feline.
Oh yes, he would not be a gentle lover. He would take her hard and fast, just the way she liked it. She imagined him bending her over the kitchen table while her nails dug in, clawing at the soft wood. Or perhaps he’d hoist her up in those muscular arms of his and pin her to the wall of her bedroom as he pumped himself into her until she forgot her own name. Hells, he could take her out the back door of the Grand Cru and have his way with her in a dark alley for all she cared. The mere thought of it caused warmth to pool low in her belly and she squeezed her thighs together, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else that involved no clothing and no promises.
Skulls eyed her empty glass on the bar, his hand gradually moving from her hip to her lower spine, pulling her into him. “Can I get you another?”
“Can’t.” Everinne shook her head, then squeezed her eyes shut, leaning backward against the assault of alcohol as it sloshed through her. When she opened them, the Grand Cru blinked back into focus. “Promised I’d only have…one more and…then go home.”
His teeth scraped along his bottom lip as his eyes lingered on the short length of her dress. “It’s cold out tonight.”
Everinne shivered, despite the sweltering temperature inside the parlor. The cold coming off him almost matched the frigidwinter breeze outside. She reached up, locking her arms around his neck.
“You could keep me warm.”
His hand dipped lower, cupping her bottom, and she was ready to climb him like a fucking tree. “If you insist.”
“Oh,” she purred, “I do.”
Skulls stood, wrapping an arm snugly around her as he led her toward the exit of the Grand Cru. She leaned into him, somewhat for comfort, but mostly to keep herself from falling on her face. Whereas she usually had to struggle to get through the pulsing dance floor on her own, everyone else simply moved out of the way forhim. She wished she held that kind of power.
