Page 6 of The Sting of Love
Just a drink… I can have a drink with a handsome stranger in a classy club, can’t I?
“Okay.”
A twinkle flickers in his eyes, and he flicks his hand to point toward the door to our left.
I step forward, and his other hand goes to the small of my back in an almost possessive manner. I’m tiny next to him as we walk. I’m guessing he’s well over six feet, so he makes my mere five foot two look like I’m a midget.
The music beats loud and vibrant as we take the stairs to the upper deck, then it fades to a low like at the bar, as we enter a lounge. I thought we’d reached our destination, but we continue walking and go through another door that leads to a room that instantly takes my breath away.
The first thing my gaze lands on is the wide archway that covers the left side of the room. It gives the most incredible view of the sea and the beach outside the club. It has a balcony that looks similar to the Juliet baroque-style ones I’ve seen in Verona.
The floor is covered in those bright shiny tiles like the club floor with glittery specks that look like diamonds splashed into the surface, and the black leather sofas compliment the sophisticated décor.
“You like?” he asks.
I turn to face him, and he gives me a satisfied grin. “It’s beautiful.”
I continue to gaze at him and wonder who he is to have a private lounge here.
“I run the place,” he says, correctly guessing what was on my mind. “And I don’t always like a crowd. This lounge is perfect when you just want to be alone.”
“It’s nice. Are you here a lot, then?”
He gives me a wide toothy grin. “When I’m not in Chicago. You?”
“I live in LA. I’m just visiting family.”
“And you came to a nightclub by yourself?”
“I… came out for some fresh air.” It’s a half truth, and I’m glad he can probably tell that I don’t really want to delve into what sent me out here by myself. Doing so was quite stupid now that I think about it.
“Take a seat.” He points to the stools by the bar counter.
While I sit, he heads behind the bar and starts taking out an assortment of fruit, fruit juices, and liquor. It’s fascinating to watch him.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“Your drink.”
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”
“You don’t need to,” he answers with a wink and rolls the sleeves of his black dress shirt up his thick forearms. I catch a peak of some of his tattoos. There’s a snake curling up his left arm and a dragon’s tail on the right. Instantly, I wonder if he has any more and what the rest of his well-muscled body looks like.
He catches me watching, and a blush creeps into my cheeks.
“What if I don’t like it?” I challenge.
“You will.”
I like his confidence. I like it even more when desire fills his heated gaze. Sexual hunger I haven’t felt in a long time stirs to life and he looks at me like he knows exactly what I’m feeling.
With a satisfied smile, he reaches for a pineapple and starts cutting it up. He grabs a coconut next so I assume he must be making me a piña colada, until he reaches for a fruit I don’t recognize and a few strawberries, mango, and raspberries.
The fruit collection gets tossed into the blender along with ice, and I have to admit that watching this gorgeous man make me a drink is definitely some form of compensation for the hellish day I’ve had.
Once the fruit and the ice blends, he pours the mixture into a glass jug and grabs a bottle of Malibu Rum. He then drizzles in one shot.
Aunt Lurlene loves making cocktails all the time, so I know there should be a little more than one shot of rum in there.
