“I was in a pinball club for a while. I joined a couple tournaments. Never got very far, though.” She grins up at me.At this point in the night a slight glaze of alcohol shimmers in her eyes, with her inhibitions slightly lowered, she’s all flirt. She leans in with one gentle hand on my chest, like she wants to tell me a secret.
I lower my ear so she can speak into it, taking advantage of the position to sniff her neck.
“You probably lost because you got distracted by my ass.” She giggles, pulls back and wiggles the aforementioned body part.
“Not that it doesn’t look excellent this evening, but I would never demean your talent by claiming such a thing.” I slip a hand around her waist and dip to her ear. “Now if you were in that purple pencil skirt that you wore to work last Friday…”
“Scandalous, Mr. Kwatch!” She gasps in mock horror, but I keep my hand on her hip as she types her name into the scoreboard. ‘BST’
“What does the S stand for?”
“Bailey, Samantha, Thorn.” She ticks off her fingers as she says each name. She slides between me and the next machine in a way that presses her body against mine. “Because I am the best!”
“More like a little beast,” I grumble when her breasts graze my arm. She laughs and gives me a little hip bump when I don’t move out of her way quickly enough.
It’s wonderful to see her really in her element. Giggling, having fun, and succeeding at something that she enjoys.
These are the moments my instincts must have scented on her. The beast inside me instinctively knew she was warm, talented, and full of passion.
But no matter how good she smells, nothing can compare to the teasing grin she flashes me as she pulls me over to another table, where I know she will destroy me again. I’m beginning to think that I could make this work. Really make it work. That myslow stalking of my mate is going to pay off, even if I did have to pay her to be here tonight, she’s going to be mine very soon.
14
NOT TONIGHT
Bailey
The night is long. I know I’m not supposed to be enjoying myself this much, but it’s easy to forget we aren’t really on a date when he’s so easy to be around. The evening is full of flirty glances and casual touches.
Sacha slips a hand along the back of my neck, heating up the sensitive nerves there as he leans in to compliment my pinball skills again. When his breath glances across my ear as he laughs at my joke, I almost have to excuse myself to find clean underwear.
He is dangerously sexy. I thought planning the date so soon would give me less time to get emotionally attached, but I don’t think the plan is working.
When last call is announced, I’m surprised. I had no idea we’d been here so long. I down the rest of my cocktail and turn to find Sacha boring holes into me with his deep brown eyes.
“Are you ready to call it a night?” he asks, leaning toward me.
“I think so.” My hands reach up unconsciously to straighten the lapels of his suit. “But first dates traditionally end a certain way.”
“Oh?” he asks. “How’s that’s?” He lets himself be pulled toward me, surrounded by the lights and noise of the crowded bar, one of his large hands lands on the wall beside my head, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“Well, I probably wouldn’t have even agreed to this date if you weren’t such a good kisser.” I force the words out. It’s difficult to admit. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I don’t want him to think that I’m not going to take his money. He’s cute, and nice, and is probably a good lay, but I’m not an idiot who walks away from a ridiculous sum offered by a rich person who has more than enough to spare. “This is probably your only chance.”
“Alright, then. If I only get one chance, then I’d better make it good.” His low voice rumbles through my entire body.
He traces a hand across my chin, his large thumb brushes across my lips, and shoots a heat straight to my stomach. His eyes sparkle in the arcade lights. For a second, even in the loud, crowded bar, everything seems still, like we are the only two people alive. He lowers himself to my face, and after a long golden moment of anticipation, he presses his lips to mine. Something sparks to life inside me, just like the first time we kissed. He is thorough, taking slow control of my mouth, claiming it inch by inch. There’s no rush or urgency, just a solid, controlled power that he uses like he’s trying to memorize the way our lips fit together. He’s soft, warm, pleasant, and completely dominating with the intense strength I can feel under his skin. A heat spreads, like liquid chocolate, slowly across my body. I could melt into him and stay there all night.
His hand slides down, brushing knuckles against the side of my breasts, but even with my urging he doesn’t take the kiss past PG. His hand comes to rest at my hip. I press against him, urging him to continue, to take things a little further, I want him to give in, take me home, and satisfy this itch I cannot scratch.
But he doesn’t fold under pressure. I feel the smile in his kiss just before his teeth scrape over my bottom lip as he leans back. His hands leave my body to prop himself against the wall, caging me in with his arms. My body mourns the loss of him.
“Will you let me plan our second date?” He breath glances across my cheek.
I nod before remembering we aren’t going to have a second date. Alcohol and his lips have lured me into a fuzzy state of intoxication. I’m going to break up with him on Monday and take his money. “What makes you think there’s going to be a second date?” I ask, trying to recover, but making no effort to move away from him.
As an answer, his fingers wrap around my chin so he can guide my mouth up to meet his, pouring his warmth slowly back into me until he manages to pull a gentle groan from my chest. “I think you really want to know if I’m good at more than just kissing.”
Dammit. Fuck. He’s right.
