I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. He was looking down at me, like a bouncer sizing up someone who didn’t belong.
I might be trained, but up against this guy, I’d be a hummingbird pecking at a grizzly bear.
My pulse spiked. A different tactic was in order.
So I relaxed my shoulders, softened up, and tilted my head just a little, the exact way I’d practiced in a hundred hotel-bar mirrors, watching men’s eyes go wide every time.
“Hey,” I said, mouth curving into a smile.
He blinked. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ma’am,” he managed.
“What’s your name?” I took a step closer. Close enough to catch a whiff of his cologne.
“Seth,” he said, staring at my neckline.
“Hey, Seth. I’m Esme.”
“I know who you are, ma’am.” His jaw flexed, arms bulging beneath the suit jacket like he was prepping for a bodybuilding contest.
Fabric straining, shoulders squared, posture so tense it bordered on cartoonish. If he was aiming for intimidation, it wasn’t landing.
Not in this gilded, over-the-top hallway, all mirrors and candlesticks and money dripping off the walls.
But that little flick of his eyes, from my face to the door behind me and right back again, said he’d been warned. Probably more than once.
The whole thing amused me.
I didn’t bother hiding it.
Instead, I stepped up so close I could feel the heat coming off him. Ran my fingers down his forearm, tracing up to his bicep. His muscle jerked under my touch, like he’d been shocked.
“Seth,” I murmured in a low whisper. He had to lean in to hear me. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Classic. His Adam’s apple did a full bob, sweat popping up at his temple.
“I—” he tried, but the word fell apart when I circled his arm with fingers that were, yes, freezing.
“Sorry,” I said, gliding my hand along the ridge of his forearm, right over a twitching vein. “Cold hands.”
I added a shiver, making sure my nipples pressed against my blouse just so. His pupils dilated. The Adam’s apple bobbed again, a real performance.
I leaned close, breath warming his ear. “I’d be so grateful.”
He clenched his jaw, sweat beading at the edge of his hair.
“Can’t,” he managed.
The word fractured, then fell out in two rough syllables. His gaze darted to my chest, lingered for a split second, thensnapped up to my face like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Can’t let you leave, ma’am.”
I pressed against him until our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces, my hip bone sliding against his inner thigh. His skin burned through the fabric between us.
"Seth," I whispered, my lips so close to his ear my breath made him shiver.
His pupils swallowed his irises as I watched something crack behind them.
"Please? Just the bathroom. Five minutes."