Page 6 of Hard to Resist

I start to slide off the barstool, but Cullen tightens his hold on my hand.

“Wait. How do you feel about wings?”

“Wings?”

“Yeah, like fried chicken wings.”

“I mean, I have nothing against them, and I’m a sucker for some hot honey”

“Perfect.” He turns back to the bartender and asks to close his tab before slipping off his stool and holding his palm out to me. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“A secret speakeasy.”

My curiosity is peaked.

Maybe the universe isn’t telling me to head home and cry into a pool of ice cream. Maybe it is just pointing me in a different direction, saying that I don’t need to give up and end my night here.

Maybe I could sayscrew itand take this hot guy’s offer? That’s what my roommate would tell me to do. She’d tell me that the best way to get over one guy would be to distract myself withanother. I could distract myself without falling head over heels–right? I could resist that and just live for the moment.

I place my hand in his offered palm. The contact sends another shock of electricity up my arm and into my chest. Our eyes lock, and my heartbeat stutters. I lean into the feeling, lean into the uncertainty and excitement.

“All right. Lead the way.”

CHAPTER TWO

CULLEN

“You promise you’re not leading me down an alley to murder me?”

I let out a chuckle. “I’m not.”

“Okay, because I only have ten dollars on me, so I’m really not a good murder candidate.”

“Not all murder is monetarily justified.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true.”

Her brows tug together, and I bite back a smile. She is seriously cute, and the things she says are completely unfiltered. I am drawn to her without her even trying.

“Here we are.”

I come to a stop outside a small, neon yellow-lit restaurant and open the door for her. The bell jingles, snagging the attention of the worker behind the register and the lone customer sitting at one of the four small, square dining tables.

Verity gives me a glance before taking a hesitant step inside.

“It’s in here?”

“You haven’t been to a speakeasy before?”

“I have, but most of them are random, nondescript doors on the street or behind photo booths in ice cream parlors. This is a fully functioning Korean fried chicken restaurant.”

“Come on.”

I rest my hand on the small of her back, and it creates that same buzzing connection from earlier. It’s that feeling that stopped me from letting her just go home, dragging her here instead.

I lead her through a yellow curtain into the kitchen where two cooks are busy frying up food. The crackle of hot oil filters around us, and I can feel her curiosity heighten as she presses closer to me.

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