Until a pair of shadows looms over our table, breaking this growing spell between us.
“So much for drinks and dinner with us,” Ryker says, automatically turning up the wattage of his toothpaste-commercial smile for the benefit of an attractive female. “Can’t say I blame you for ditching us, though, Damon. Want to make the introductions?”
Since I don’t want to admit to my brothers that I haven’t managed to get her name yet, I decide to start with them.
“The ugly one here is my middle brother Griffin,” I tell her wearily, eager to get these two jokers out of the way before they cause any undue mischief. She laughs in a display of flashing white teeth and dimples that makes something swoop inside me. “The stupid one is my youngest brother Ryker.”
“Carly.” She shakes both their hands in turn. “Pleasure.”
Carly.
Even her name pleases me.
“You can do so much better than this guy,” Ryker says, jerking his head at me. “Don’t you want to reconsider now that you know you have better options? Maybe ditch him and come to dinner with us?”
“No,” I say sourly. “She doesn’t. Bye.”
“I can almost always answer questions directed at me,” she tells me. “I’m very proud of that skill. I learned it in primary school.”
I scowl. Meanwhile, my brothers nudge each other and grin with delight. I can only imagine the commentary I’ll receive from them later.
“But I have promised Damon a drink, boys,” she continues. “I’m regretting my decision already, but there you are.”
“Ah,” Ryker says. “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be happy to—”
“Bye,” I repeat.
More laughter at my expense, followed by good-natured waves as they head back to their table, leaving me alone with Carly and a pounding heart.
She raises a brow at me. Represses a grin under the guise of pursing her lips. “Where’s my drink? I was promised a dirty martini.”
“I was promised a dirty martini,” I say, signaling for the server to bring us two more.
“Your brothers seem quite lovely.”
“They’re a nightmare.” I throw in a dramatic shudder just to make sure there’s no further question of her taking off with one of them. “Between the nose picking and the bedwetting, they’ve disgraced the family a thousand times over.”
She laughs again, this time a full-throated edition that engages her sparkling eyes and dimples.
I watch greedily, trying to remember that this is not my first smile, laugh, flirtation, woman or, God willing, hookup. But feeling my skin sizzle as I try to dial back my excitement, it sure feels like it.
“Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head at myself and ruffling my hair with both hands.
She looks bemused. “What?”
I tell myself to slow it down. But the words pour out, unstoppable.
“I’ve been dying to make you laugh. I thought I could handle it. But that’s not a normal laugh. It’s been spiked or something. It went straight to my head.”
She doesn’t know what to make of me. I can tell by the vague frown between her brows and the way she chooses her words.
“Don’t bother flirting with me, sir. I already told you it won’t work.”
“You said something about not fucking me tonight,” I say, shrugging. “Neither one of us believed it at the time. Still don’t, as a matter of fact.”
She glares at me, oblivious to the server as he drops off our drinks and fades into the woodwork.
“You’re a cheeky prick, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea,” I assure her.
“And why would I waste my time with such an arrogant arse, pray tell?” she demands.
I lean closer, dying to touch her as I rest my elbows on the table.
“Careful,” I say, giving her a pointed once-over that lingers on her eyes, lips and cleavage. “You’re going to want me inside you before the night’s over. Don’t make it too hard to get yourself back on the playing field.”
She makes an outraged sound, her face flooding with color. But before she can let me have it with both barrels, as she clearly intends to do, her phone buzzes on the table. Lobbing a final glare in my direction, she checks the display and scowls.
“Well, this is brilliant,” she says. “Now my friend Michele’s gone and canceled on me.”
“Works for me,” I say with a cheery toast.
“I’ll just bet it does.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I had nothing to do with her not coming.” I pause to reconsider. “Other than hoping and wishing for it.”
She rolls her eyes, unable to entirely quash her amusement. That’s about the time that the pianist ends his solo set and a new performer takes the mic, introduces herself and launches into a tender and plaintive rendition of “Since I Fell for You.” The one thing the setting needs to become even more spellbinding than it already is. I watch her sing the opening few notes, then turn back to Carly.
She levels her gaze on my face. Steady. Smoldering. Expectant.
Honest to God, it’s all I can do to think a coherent thought when she looks at me like that.
I open my mouth, my voice on a three-second delay.
“What if we drink our drinks and listen to the music. See where the night takes us. Can we do that?”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “We can do that.”
“Good. Come sit with me. So you don’t have to crane your neck.”
I slide her drink over to my side of the table, and she follows suit, easing into the banquette on my right side. I shift closer, taking care to brush my leg against hers.
“This is better, isn’t it? Easier for you to see the singer this way,” I say.
As if the singer is remotely on my mind at this moment.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Carly says dryly, looking a little startled.
“I will. Thanks.”
With that, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her even closer. I leave my hand right where it is when I’m done, somewhere between waist and belly and not that far north of her pussy. She feels solid. Warm. Vibrant. Thrilling. To my immense pleasure and surprise, she covers my hand with hers, lacing our fingers together. I kiss her bare shoulder in response, noting the way she gasps and helplessly turns her head toward me. As though she hopes I might accidentally kiss her lips before pulling all the way back.
But I don’t. I sit there holding her and listening to a voice so evocative and beautiful that it makes my nape prickle. Maybe the martinis have been stronger than I thought, because for one wild second I think that I could live and die in this moment. Then it occurs to me that I’d rather die with her legs wrapped tight around my waist and me buried to the hilt inside her.
So I use my free hand to take her free hand and raise it to my mouth for a lingering kiss. And when I’m done with that, I lay her hand on my thigh, palm up, and trace letters while we listen to the music.
I.
W. A. N. T.
Y. O. U.
She ducks her head and grins, curling her fingers around mine.
“Look at me,” I murmur, tapping her chin to make sure she does as I say.
She does, reluctantly, her glittering eyes taking up my entire field of vision at this close range. I wonder again what color they are, but there’s time for that. I’ll find out later.