Page 31 of Lovely Venom
For a second, I wish that were my name based on how he says it. “That’s me.”
“So, Storm...” His tongue sweeps across his upper lip. “If you wanted to sleep with me again, all you had to dowas march this lovely body right up to me.”
I bite my lip, pushing away how he can fluster me with that voice. To distract myself, I ghost my finger over his jacket. “I had no idea you’d be here.”
He catches my fingers before I get my hands on his raw silk lapel. Confidence wafting off him, Connor takes hold of my wrist.
“How about we leave here?” His thumb brushes the pulse throbbing under my skin. “Go a few more rounds in my bed?”
Did I give in that easily two months ago? But he doesn’t need the sexy talk. His height, those eyes, full lips, and big hands can get him any woman in this city. Even if he were mute.
“I have a better idea,” I whisper. “I need a refill.”
“Aye, let’s get you pissed again.” He snaps his fingers to draw one of the bartenders to us in the blink of an eye. “She needs another champagne. The Dom P. this time. I’ll pay for the bottle.”
The bartender nods and hurries off.
“I thought you were playing hard to get,” he says, leaning against the bar, looking like a man of the world even though Valdrin described him as a psycho.
“Maybe I prefer men to play hard to get right back,” I quip.
Connor smirks. “That’s how men end up in bed alone. With their hand.” His eyes rake a trail down my body, like he’s mapping out the quickest way to get me out of this dress.
“Noted.” I clear my throat at the visual, resisting the urge to see if he’s tenting his tuxedo pants.
Connor watches me with hooded eyes while I stare at other couples flirting for both business and pleasure. Female bodies sway against well-dressed men. Sure,theycan flirt with their lingering touches between sips ofchampagne, whiskey, and scotch. The air in this place is thick with wealth, power, anddesire.
The bottle of Dom P. and a fresh chilled flute arrive just as Connor turns to face the bar with a hardened expression from the irritating forty-second wait. He drops several one-hundred-dollar bills on the smooth granite surface, effortlessly opens the bottle, pours, and hands me my flute.
I take a cautious sip and nearly choke on how much richer Dom P. tastes compared to the swill in my glass from earlier. Looking down, I’m surprised the leather isn’t peeling away on his shoes.
“Christ, that’s good,” I say, and wipe my bottom lip.
“Not as good as me, right? Care to meet me in a private lounge and refresh your priorities?”
I arch a brow and do away with the smoothness. “Were you this forward that night?”
His jaw ticks at my question. “Aye. I saw a woman I wanted and I got her.”
“You sure did.”
If this weren’t an assignment, I’d have followed Connor to a lounge and would have been riding him five minutes ago. I love sex. Probably a little too much and think with my clit at the worst times.
I feign amusement. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Connor steps in a fraction closer, the heat of his body and his cologne mixing to make me dizzy. He gazes at me like he’s remembering the weight of my thighs tightening around his hips. And his face. “Why waste time? I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you.”
The confession stuns me into silence. A rush of me riding his tongue cracks me wide open.
Dear God.
I bring the flute to my mouth so I can’t respond and buy myself time.
“You here alone?” he asks, low but demanding.
“Maybe.” I smile coyly.
“That’s not an acceptable answer,” Connor responds like he’s on to me.
