Page 18 of Of Desire And Deception

Several hours in, the shadow god himself emerged from the back of the building and stood at the end of the bar, crossing his arms and staring at the man there until he nearly jumped out of his skin with fright. He scurried away, and I scowled because my tip disappeared with him.

When he sat, his arms crossed over his chest, I lifted a brow and promptly ignored him while I refilled drinks for a couple of customers. By the time I sashayed my way down to where he sat, the muscle in his jaw ticked with irritation. He didn’t like being ignored, but he also wanted to see me, so he could wait. I found that making him upset made my evening that much better.

I slapped a black napkin down on the bar in front of him. “What’ll it be, boss man?”

“Your choice,” he murmured, his eyes roaming down my body and lingering on my chest. “Just not—”

“Whiskey,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I got it the other twenty times you reminded me.”

“I only reminded you six times,” he corrected me blandly, those tattooed fingers drumming a tempo on the bar top.

“Seriously?” I side-eyed him while I measured vodka and soda and squeezed in lime juice. “You count how often you give me reminders?”

“No, I just know.”

“Sure.” I set the drink down in front of him and cleaned up my workspace. The man was weird, but I had to talk to him. “Long week?”

It wasn’t creative, but I'd hit something, judging by how Cosimo rolled his shoulders. “It was… busy.”

I wiped the bar, and my finger grazed his tattooed forearm. He was like an oven. My mouth went dry when those muscles rippled at my touch. I cleared my throat. “Busy, like lots of meetings busy? Or busy, like somebody asked you to help bury a body?”

His eyes shot to mine, dark and dangerous, and I gave him a playful grin. Hell, my nipples pulled into hardened points beneath the vest, and it was tight enough that he’d see if he glanced down. Flirting with a killer gave me a rush of adrenaline, and my chest flushed as he held my stare.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he looked away, and my jaw dropped when he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh. I couldn’t be sure because the man was always so damn serious. If I hadn’t danced with him, I’d never have believed he could be personable.

“Family stuff,” Cosimo finally answered, gulping his drink.

“But you like your family,” I reminded him needlessly. “It can’t have been that bad.”

“Just the usual shit,” he replied, leaning forward and pointing to the empty glass. “Another.”

I crossed my arms and shot him a quelling look. “Where are your manners, boss man? Say the magic word.”

“Please,” Cosimo ground out, running his tongue along his lower lip. It immediately reminded me of how that tongue felt, and I failed to suppress a shiver. There it was again. A huff of a laugh like he knew exactly what he did to me. His lips curled upward into a sinful smile, and he held the glass out, his eyes challenging me to take it from his grasp.

I got the feeling I was akin to a rabbit in his snare, and whether I took the glass or refused, I’d be caught and helpless. At his mercy. Of that tongue. Those hands. That generous bulge he’d pressed against me while we danced. One substantial enough to stretch me and offer the pinch of pain I liked.

Shit. Cosimo’s presence was heady, and I felt like I’d had a few drinks. One drink of him would lead to ruin, though. But what a way to go…

No.

No going. Staying and finishing what I’d started.

Which included making the man another damn drink. I reached for the glass, but Cosimo didn’t let go immediately. My fingers fit between his, and my eyes followed his down, where my pale skin stood out next to his darker tan. I was smooth; he was rough. My fingers were unblemished, his covered with those black lines.

“Goldilocks.” The word rolled off his tongue, slowly, decadently, like he was indulging in the finest dessert.

My lungs refused to draw breath, and my heart seemed to stop. Everything slowed as I lifted my gaze and found nothing but molten desire staring back from those dark brown pools. I licked my suddenly dry lips, and his teeth sank seductively into his. Straight, white, with incisors that looked slightly vampiric.

He’s not a fucking vampire, Remi. He’s a man. A very bad man. One who would kill you if he knew why you were really standing behind his bar.

That little bit of my conscious helped me break free of his stare, and I tugged at the glass until he released it into my hand. It still held the heat from his hand, despite the ice inside. I put it in the dishwasher and pulled out another glass.

“Put a cherry in it.”

I paused and glanced quickly at Cosimo. “A cherry?”

He nodded once.

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