Page 42 of Never Started
Still, I turn to look at the man. "Oh, aren't you original? Are you going to offer to buy me a drink too?"
The tall, handsome stranger sitting on the barstool beside me chuckles darkly.He's pretty dang cute,with shaggy dark blonde hair that frames his face, a strong, square jaw line, and bright blue eyes that remind me of the sky on a clear day.
"Criticising my game?" He leans in with a quirked eyebrow, speaking low, just to where I can hear him above the bustling music. His smooth voice isdelicious.
I throw a wry smile his way. "Well, I would have if there were actually any 'game' to criticize. Is this the best you've got?"
His mouth tugs into an enticing, crooked grin, his eyes darkening, pulling back slightly. The next thing I know, he spreads his legs, and his hand reaches in between mine, forcing them apart.
What the fuck!?
This isn't him having 'game'; it's overly forward.So, why do I kind of like it?
Mister Mysterious purposefully dodges my center, which he has easy access to, and grabs the barstool beneath me. He effortlessly pulls my stool in one swift movement, dragging me closer to him. Surprised, I let out a small gasp, our eyes remaining locked.
He leans in, his mouth nearly touching mine.
He raises a hand and tucks my stray hair behind my ears. Our eyes remain locked, and my heart begins to pick up its pace in my chest.
The moment is almost tender.I no longer like it.
"Do I have your attention now, beautiful?"
I hold up a hand, covering his mouth softly and pushing his face back from mine.
"I don't kiss strange men in nightclubs," I say.
His head falls back on a laugh, and fuck— it’s smooth like whiskey and awakens a part of me I thought had died off. The curious part of me that wants to knowmore.
His sweet laugh settles, and his eyes regain their focus on mine. "So, what is it that youarewilling to do with a strange man in a nightclub?"
Fuck yes. He's right where I want him.
Like the lioness I am, my eyes are hot on my prey, and I'm ready to pounce.
I lean my top half in closer, placing my hands on the barstool between my slightly parted legs, subtly forcing my tits to push together, and knowingly displaying the little bit of cleavage I'm working with.
Holding his eye contact, I whisper slowly and softly, forcing my tone to be as sexy as I can muster, "I drink with them, and I fuck them."
His face morphs into disbelief at my admission, and he gulps audibly.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Now who’s the one with game?
"I'll buy you a drink. Gladly. But I won’t be fucking you."
What?That's a first.
"Excuse me?" I ask, sounding every bit as confused as I feel.
His smile grows, waving the bartender over, but he doesn't break our current stare down. "Let me be clear, beautiful. A woman who is willing to fuck me but not kiss me is a level of dangerous I'm not willing to sign up for."
Dangerous.
I'm suddenly hit with the same memories I work so hard to keep suffocated.
The word Jett called me when we parted ways. Well, when I broke both of our fucking hearts.
