Page 5 of Scarlet Mark
“Mr. Bedivere.” The sultry voice sent a tingle down my spine, as did the pair of gorgeous blue-green eyes that boldly met mine. “Are you enjoying your visit to Amsterdam?”
“Who says I’m visiting?” I countered, cocking my head to the side. “What’s an American girl like you doing in this branch of theDiavolo Rojo?I expected an accent, something different from my usual fare.” A complete lie. I knew all about Amara Rose, where she was from, why she’d run here. But I wanted to goad her, see how much of the truth she’d give me.
“Are you disappointed?” she asked instead, surprising me by arching an auburn brow. “I can find you a local, if that’s what you’re in the mood to play with.”
My lips actually twitched, amused by her clever play. “No, darling. You’ll do just fine. I’m just curious, is all.”
She nodded. “I see. So you’re a conversation man. Preferring to talk more than getting down to business.” It was a taunt, one I volleyed back in her direction with expert ease.
“Perhaps I consider this part foreplay,” I murmured, pushing off the bar and approaching her slowly, my steps measured over the ground. “Maybe I enjoy easing my prey into a false sense of comfort before I bite.”
She didn’t move, even as I drew into her personal space, her head tilting back to maintain her hold on my gaze. “Hmm. I’m not easy prey.”
“Good,” I replied, closing the gap between us, showcasing my height and size over her petite frame. She didn’t flinch, proving her point. Definitely not a meek damsel, no. But a confident woman with a cruel streak.
My kind of mark.
My kind oftoy.
“What type of music do you want to dance to?” I asked her softly, curious to see how far I could push her. “Fast or slow?”
“Depends on your mood. Sir.”
Feisty. I liked that. “Both have their purpose.” I skimmed my knuckles up her colorful arm, adoring the smattering of goose bumps that sprouted in the wake of my touch. She put on a good act, but her body couldn’t lie. Her sharp inhale was music to my ears, her dilating pupils reminiscent of a dark desire that rivaled my own. And that scrap of silk covering her gorgeous breasts showcased a set of aroused nipples that I wanted to nibble and bite while she moaned my name.
“Slow,” I decided on an exhale, wanting to prolong the tension. To play. The senator wanted her alive but didn’t specify in what condition. He just wanted her breathing.
I could do that. And have a little fun, too.
“Okay.” The husky quality of her voice pleased me, as did the subtle tremble in her stance as she took a step toward the stereo, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked, putting on an elegant exterior that belied my murderous motives.
“A water,” she replied, her focus falling to the stereo.
I grinned at her choice. “Still or sparkling?”
“Still.” She switched the music over to a sensual tone that had anticipation spiking through my blood. The things I planned to do to her made this so wrong, and as a result, so incredibly right.
Female marks weren’t rare. Gender played no part in the crimes of others. Marks that intrigued me were what I found rare. That this one happened to be a woman, and my type, only added to the allure.
I had earned a little amusement after tracking her down.
She’d be the one paying that price.
I filled her glass before pouring another scotch for myself, then settled onto the black leather couch.
“Your notes said you prefer the clothes to remain on,” she said, striding toward me.
I spread my legs for her to step between them and held out her water. She took it with one delicate hand, lifting the rim to her lips while I watched. “Unless other items are negotiated, yes.” I allowed my gaze to roam over her supple form. Curvy in all the right places. Long, shapely legs designed for this very purpose. “You’re the kind of woman I’d negotiate with.”
“Am I?” She straddled my hips without asking, her arms circling my neck as one would a familiar lover’s, her glass cool against my skin. “So what brings you to Amsterdam?”
My eyebrow lifted. “Now you want to talk?”
“I thought you considered it foreplay.”
Oh, Ilikedher.
