Page 14 of Conception
“I’m—” he starts, but I’m quick to cut him off.
“Don’t care. Just like I said earlier.”
I care. I really frickin’ do. I’m simply not letting him in on that fact. Not yet.
“Meow,” he murmurs. “Come on, kitty. Put those claws away and come out to play.”
Did he serious just call me kitty? I cast a glare up to him, and once again, he remains unaffected.
“Feisty. I like it. You should know, Sally, it only turns me on more. Just like those continuous glare you keeping aimin’ in my direction.”
Right. Like I said, cocky. Arrogant. Infuriating. And downright gorgeous. The only thing keeping me from telling him he can stop with the innuendo is the fact that I’m actually enjoying it.
He lingers for just a moment before rising away from me. Then he takes the stool next to me, falling onto it. He’s facing me, with one forearm resting on the bar, the other stretched out on the back of his stool. His eyes flick to my empty drink then he gestures to Sunny with two fingers. A moment later, two new rum and Cokes appear on the bar, and Sunny silently disappears. He pushes the glass across the bar until it’s in front of me. I glance from the drink to him, tilting my head.
“My mother taught me to never accept a drink from a stranger.”
“Good thing you seemed pretty chummy with the bartender before I came over, then,” he quips, not missing a beat.
Quick wit to go along with wicked good looks? This seems promising.
“I’m Knox,” he informs me, holding his hand out to me as if he wants to shake, but then he takes it back.
I want to giggle at the act, but I don’t for his sake.
“Phew. I can’t believe I got that out without you interrupting me. Now, babe, you gonna give me your name this time, or do I have to hassle it out of the bartender?”
Well, since he asked so nicely… And knowing that Sunny would spill before he got the whole question out, I relent. “As amusing as it is that you call me Sally, my real name is Amelia,” I tell him, holding my own hand out as some sort of truce.
“Amelia,” he drawls, trying it out for size. The sound of my name on his lips does things to my insides I’m not ready to explore. “Pretty name. And ‘ride, Amelia, ride’ still has a nice ring to it.”
As he says the words, he takes my offered hand. The warmth of his broad palm encasing my much smaller one sends contradictory goose bumps across my skin. I pray he doesn’t notice, and if he does, he doesn’t let on. Instead, his fingers linger briefly over mine; then he withdraws to take a drink. The contrast between his immense grasp and the small glass has me wondering impure thoughts about the size of the rest of him.
“So, Amelia, are you from around here or just visiting for the summer?”
Well, we’re getting right to it, I guess. It’s no matter, I decide. Considering our run-in earlier—or his intrusion—we’re not exactly strangers.
“I’m just visiting for the summer. You?”
“Same. Summer plans?” he asks.
I toy with my straw—with my fingers, not my mouth—then shrug. “What anyone does at the lake, I suppose. Sunbathe, swim, catch up on reading. Try to stay cool for however long this heat wave lasts.” My eyes drop to his lips to catch them curling up in a conspiratorial grin.
“Keeping cool, huh? Does that mean skinny-dipping is in your future? ’Cause it sure is in mine.”
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I can only imagine how pink they are. Sunny and I went skinny-dipping in high school, but never with boys. Not that Knox is a boy. No, he’s definitely all man.
“If the mood calls for it,” I respond, hoping I don’t sound as breathless as I feel.
I glance away just in time to see Sunny grinning at me at the opposite end of the bar, giving me a thumbs-up. I make a mental note to ask her later what she knows about this guy.
“Well, you’ll have to let me know if—or when—the mood strikes you, Amelia.”
The way my name rolls of his tongue reminds me of a rich, dark chocolate, so decadent that you want to moan when taking a taste, so exquisite that you want to savor every nibble. The thought has me fighting the urge to bite my lower lip.
I blink up at him, torn between wanting to fake innocence or bring out my saucy side. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how hot this summer gets.”
Knox’s hand forms a fist and he knocks twice on the bar. His drink isn’t empty, so I’m not quite sure the purpose of the move. When he takes another swig of his drink, soft eyes turn to face me.
