Licking my lips, I lifted my gaze and collided with those mesmerizing brown eyes again. A soft breath escaped me, and I took a step closer to him.
Only for the guy beside him to chuckle and snap me out of my lust-filled daze for the second time in as many seconds.
Angry with myself for reacting to him like that, I turned and glared at the bartender who was standing right in front of me now. “I’m with Volkov,” I snapped at him, and the guy nodded, leaning forward to hear me better over the music. “I’ll take a shot of Spirytus if you have it.”
The bartender’s eyes widened as he skimmed his gaze over me. I was tiny, and Spirytus was 192 proof. It was my drink of choice, though, and I might have snuck in and filled a flask—or five—from Hannigans’ bar on occasion.
“We don’t carry Spirytus,” he said, but I smelled a lie.
“Balkan vodka, then,” I snipped. “Don’t tell me you don’t carry that, asshat. I said I’m here with Volkov, and I know for a fact that he keeps that shit everywhere.” It was a lie. I didn’t know what kind of liquor he kept anywhere, but it was a safe assumption to make.
“The lady wants Spirytus,” Beautiful Eyes said from beside me, leaning closer to me. “I just saw you pour those two jerk-offs down the bar a line of shots of it.”
“She weighs a buck ten, if that,” the bartender told him, his jaw tight. “I can’t give her that stuff. She’ll be in the hospital two shots in.”
“You ever drink this stuff before, baby?” Beautiful Eyes asked.
I turned my glare on him. “I’m not your baby. And yeah, I’ve drunk it plenty. My uncles own a bar.”
“You haven’t told me your name yet, so until you do, you’re ‘baby.’ How many shots before you’re wasted?” he asked, his eyes continuing to swirl. I’d never thought brown was pretty before, but right then, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a more beautiful color. I just couldn’t decide which was my favorite shade.
“Three,” I told him honestly, unsure why I was admitting it. “Not that it matters. My brother won’t let me get into trouble.”
He leaned in and lowered his head. “What would it take to make you want to get into a little trouble…with me?”
Chapter 3
Lyric
New York City had some good clubs, I’d give it that, but it wasn’t LA. Still, it was where the best tattoo artist in the country was located. I’d been dreaming of working with the guy since I was sixteen and snuck out to get my first tat with my brother. As I’d watched the tattoo gun mark my skin, I’d suddenly known what I wanted to do with my life with a clarity that had forced all the air from my body for a second.
Tonight, I was celebrating because not only had I scored an interview with Dustin Branch, my idol—without the help of my aunt—but I’d gotten the call over dinner that the job was mine. Stephen, my college roommate and friend, suggested we grab drinks and find some fun at a club where his friend worked as a bouncer.
Turned out, the bouncer friend didn’t work there anymore, but one call and I’d made sure we were let in without having to wait in line and shown directly to the VIP. Having a brother-in-law who owned the hottest club in all of California had its perks, even all the way across the country.
Finding the hot little chick beside me at the bar while I was getting a drink, though?
I suddenly had a flash of the future as I looked down into her stunning gray eyes. I was going to introduce this chick to my mom. I was going to take her home and make sure Aunt Emmie found me the biggest diamond ring her tiny hand could hold, and as soon as she had my last name, I was going to make her a mother.
Realizing all of that wasn’t a punch to the gut. It didn’t blindside me.
No, just looking down at her, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something that might scare the hell out of her and send her screaming in the opposite direction from the crazy guy standing in front of her, already planning her future.
Our future.
And she still hadn’t told me her name.
“I’m Lyric,” I told her when she didn’t answer my question about what it would take to get her to cause some trouble with me, and I offered her my hand.
She stared at it for a few seconds before finally placing her considerably smaller one in mine. As soon as her warmth touched my palm, I felt a zap of electricity shoot through my body, shocking my heart and going straight for my cock.
Fuck, this girl was potent. Just the touch of her hand on mine was enough to have my cock leaking against my thigh.
“Mila,” she said, her eyes narrowing on our hands as if she felt exactly what I’d just felt and couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“What’s your favorite color, Mila?” I asked, lowering my head so I could see her eyes better, wanting to memorize where the small lighter flecks of blue were in her irises.
Her gaze snapped to mine, and she inhaled once deeply before slowly letting it out. “Right now? Russet. No, wait. Amber. Yeah, amber.”
I was expecting purple or blue or even black—considering that was the color her nails were painted and her hair was dyed a glossy jet black that suited her skin tone. Surprised at her answer, I grinned. “What’s your second favorite color?”
Her brow pinched as she studied my eyes. “I can’t decide. Why do you want to know?”
Because my next tattoo was going to have her favorite colors incorporated into it. But I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I tore my gaze from her and looked at the bartender. “One shot of the Spirytus.” She said three would get her wasted and I wanted her clearheaded, but I wouldn’t deny her one shot.
The bartender muttered something but lined up the shot. I tossed down some cash, but Mila pushed it back to me. “I’m here with Volkov,” she told the guy for the third time, and a bolt of jealousy hit me, making me want to punch whoever the hell Volkov was.
“She’s here with me,” I snarled at the bartender, pushing the cash at him. “Whatever she drinks, I pay for it. Understand?”
“Yeah, dude, relax.” He took the money and then started to hand over the change, but I shook my head.
“Keep it.” Picking up the shot, I handed it to Mila, then picked up my tall glass of draft. “Here’s to causing trouble,” I told her as I tapped my pint glass against the shot glass.
A grin tilted up one side of her mouth. Fuck, she was beautiful. “Causing trouble is my full-time job,” she said with a sassy little wink before tossing back the shot.
She swallowed it without flinching, and I swear to all my aunt’s gods I almost came right then. I reached out, clutching the edge of the bar top, praying for control, yet at the same time, all too happy to give every ounce of it over to her.
Stephen coughed beside me, and when I looked at him, I saw he was watching her with a hunger that matched my own. Jealousy, something I couldn’t ever remember feeling before setting eyes on Mila, pushed down on me like a tsunami, and I was seconds away from punching my friend in the face.
As if sensing how close to death he was, Stephen turned his face neutral. “Think I’m gonna call it a night, man. You… Yeah, you have fun.” His lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile, and he saluted me as he backed away. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go looking for an apartment for you or whatever.”