Page 8 of Giovanni the Savage

"I think it does," she replies, still looking around in awe.

"What if we snuck in here?"

Her eyes pause their admiration before widening briefly.

"Then prepare to be caught alone." She smirks.

I ring up an order for drinks.

"So, you don't mind?"

"I mean, staying here is worth getting caught."

“You’re right, it is,” I agree.

Our drinks are served, and I take a long sip of mine and watch as her mouth covers the straw as she takes a sip of hers. She shuts her eyes blissfully, and her lashes fan her cheeks.

I clear my throat to rid myself of my sinful thoughts of her, and I adjust in my seat.

"What about you?" I ask.

She looks up at me and hums.

"Do you come here often?"

She sets her drink in front of her.

"Actually, it's my first time here."

"That's shocking."

She furrows her brows.

"Living in NYC as an adult and you've never visited this bar is unheard of."

She laughs. "It's my first time in the city, too."

"You just moved here?"

She nods. "Tonight actually."

"Nice way to start your life in NYC."

A chuckle slips past her lips.

"Clubbing isn't exactly how I envisioned my first night here, but oh well."

Each time she shrugs, my eyes flit down to her chest area. If she notices, she doesn't flinch. But the sexual tension between us is too thick to be sliced into.

"Your dance moves said otherwise."

She looks at me with wide eyes, feigning shock.

"Stalker much?" She smirks.

And, God, her smirk. I would like to see her smirk for an entirely different reason.

"It's a dance floor. Anybody could have been looking at you," I defend weakly.

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