Page 8 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
His usual quiet demeanor was gone. In its place was a rare version of himself. Mikko noted the sharpness of her features, liner darkening the edges of her intoxicating eyes. Her lack of rebuttal annoyed him, her confidence digging beneath his skin—
Snatching his drink from his clenched fingers, she knocked it back. The emptiness was undeniable in his hand as he watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Her nose wrinkled at the burn tracing a path down her throat and to her chest, but that was the only indication she gave of her discomfort as she set the glass atop the bar with aclink.Well, that and a skeptical side eye.
“Find you something better to drink thanthat,”she mumbled before pushing the empty snifter to the edge of the bar top. He realized a beat too late that she’d technically answered his last question. Irritation simmered in his veins.
“Maybe your palette isn’t as refined as mine,” he quipped. It was rude, but his sharp tongue couldn’t help itself, and he had a feeling she liked a little bite.
The woman laughed, her teeth glinting in the lowlight, and Mikko suddenly wanted to know what they felt like biting into his skin—
“While I’m sure most women let you believe whatever you want, I can’t let you go through life thinkingthat”—she nodded to his empty glass—“is ‘refined’ taste.”
Chuckling darkly, he shook his head once. “And what doyouthink is good quality liquor?”
Ignoring him, she flagged down the bartender. Her lithe body leaned over the counter, momentarily distracting him, as she motioned for the man to get something else for them to drink. Whatever it was, Mikko wasn’t interested. She was purposefully toying withhim, and he wouldn’t rise to the bait.
Except, when a fresh tumbler slid across the bar, he caught it in his awaiting hand.
So much for that plan.
He waited to drink it, mind wholly set on observing the woman before him, curiosity piqued in a way it hadn’t been in years.
Fuck.
That feeling was exacerbated when Mikko watched her pull a crisp one hundred dollar bill from the inside of her dress. The movement had his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts, an enticing swath of amber skin that had his mind wandering yet again.
And he wondered if the bill she’d produced was still warm; if it smelt like her. A soft, alluring scent wafted off her hair and skin every time she moved, something that was reminiscent of vanilla. At its base, though, there was a richness he could almost discern—a dark tobacco, laced in pepper and spiced with rum.
Just one little touch won’t hurt, right?he internally reasoned.One littletaste.
“My eyes are up here,” she chastised with a sweet smile—one that grew when he obeyed and fixed his eyes back on hers, “and you’re still acting so mysterious hmm? Clinging to what little bravado you can muster up?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly.
Reaching out, she touched the starched material of his button down, eyebrow cocking in question. The warmth of her fingers sent a jolt up his arm, his spine stiffening. “See, you’re barely giving me anything to work with here.”
Her hand now rested in the crook of his elbow. The layered fabric from his rolled up sleeve shielded him from most of her heat, but not enough.
“I’m here on business,”his fingers clenched the tumbler, stilluntouched by hislesser refinedpalette. Her brazen touch was making it hard to think, the faint whisper of her wandering fingertips scattering his thoughts.
Mikko felt the way her gaze assessed him, eyes lingering on the exposed blackout ink covering his forearms before slowly trailing up his front and settling on a smaller tattoo that had to be peeking out above his unbuttoned collar.CTRL.Or control. There’d been a time where he thought tattooing it into his skin would serve as a reminder, but the direction of tonight was proving his theory wrong. Most of the time, he hid his tattoos, but he’d gotten comfortable. Cristiano’s relaxed ways were rubbing off on him, and he feared it’d get him in trouble tonight.
A new song began playing out above the dance floor, the reverb of it rattling through his chest, but the woman leaned in, determined to make her point heard. “Business, huh? Well, lucky for you, Ilikemysteries.”
His eyes, which had been scanning for Cristiano over her shoulder dismissively, now flicked back down to her. She met his gaze, unafraid at whatever emotion flashed across his countenance.
Dangerous, this is so very dangerous.
Her formerly sunlit whiskey eyes were now colorless in the nearby flashing lights, but he could still read the sinful glint in them. Her pointer finger traced the edge of one of the flower tattoos on his forearm. Biting the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood was the only thing keeping a shiver from racing up his spine.
“But unfortunately for you, I have business of my own to take care of—have fun finding a new target,Mikko.”
He cocked his head, a predatory move she cataloged, but still appeared unbothered. Questions gathered on his tongue, especially the one demanding how she knew his name when she’d explicitly stated prior that shedidn’tknow him.
A liar indeed.
And what’shername?
With one final smirk and squeeze of his arm, she was off. His eyes dipped down the length of her back, heated gaze lingering a moment too long on the swaying of her hips before the dancing bodies around them swallowed her up.
