Okay, semi-hard. I’m not twelve. I have some control.
“Well,” I consider, “I have two drinks. You choose which one, and I’ll drink the other.”
She hesitates, suspicion vibrating from her body. Which is crazy—I’m a puppy.
Except I’m not a puppy. Not right now, not around her, and her distrust increases my interest in her tenfold.
“How about you drink from both of them? And then I’ll choose one.”
Whichever she chooses, she’ll have her lips on the glass after mine. That’s so hot.
Maybe I am only twelve.
With her eyes still caught in mine, I take a swallow from one flute and then from the other. “Now choose.”
“I’ll have this one,” she says, claiming the glass I drank more from. “Thank you.” Her skepticism relaxes slightly, but she’s still wary. As she should be.
I’m surprised how much it arouses me.
Tipping it forward, I clink my flute to hers. “You’ve been surrounded all night.”
“And?” She’s polite enough not to sigh, but I can hear the weariness behind the single word.
I should leave her alone.
I can’t. “I didn’t like it.”
She tilts her head, her expression both appalled and intrigued. “I don’t really think it matters what you like.”
“True, true.” I give her the Chandler grin, the one that drops panties at the speed of light. “Thing is, I don’t think you liked it either.”
She crosses her arms over herself and leans her weight on one gorgeous hip. “So, since I didn’t like a bunch of men trying to pick me up, you thought you’d come over and pick me up instead?”
“When you put it that way, I sound like an asshole.”
“You said it, not me.”
She seems truly put off, and I’m momentarily thrown off my game. Mostly because this isn’t at all the game I usually play. Usually, I’m the target. There are too many already willing women to waste time working for one.
Smile and say goodnight, Chandler.
I take a swallow from my drink. The sweetness is so much more tolerable as I imagine licking it off her lips, and now that I’ve imagined it, there’s no going back.
“How about I make it up to you?” I say, totally improvising. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll escort you out so no one bothers you. Once outside, you can totally tell me to take a hike.”
She gives me the same expression she did before—the shocked and fascinated one—and this time I catch a hint of amusement as well. “You’re really full of yourself, thinking I need you to help me get out of here.”
An unexpected filthy, crass comment about filling her instead flutters on the tip of my tongue, but I push it away. Play nice. “I wasn’t implying that at all. I’m just offering a service that could be mutually beneficial.”
“How would that benefit you?”
“I’d get to be the guy seen walking out with the most beautiful woman in the room.” Yes! Now my brain’s on the right track.
She gives me an incredulous glare, but her icy demeanor has melted. “You American men are such charmers.” She takes a sip from her drink, and when she licks her tongue over her bottom lip? Talk about melting. I’m so hot I’m a puddle of molten lava over this girl.
Somehow I manage to remain charming. “Oh,” I mock groan, clutching my chest as though she’s wounded my heart. “You’ve lumped me with the all the other ‘American men.’ That’s a real low blow.”
She laughs, and it’s so adorable that I want to sink my teeth into the sound and bite, want to mark it and claim it as mine.
“Perhaps it was a little crueler than necessary,” she says, then sobers quickly. “Let me ask you this—is being seen with me the only thing you’re interested in?”
No, it’s most definitely not at all. I’m also interested in fucking her. I’m interested in dragging her into a dark corner so I can feed her my cock. I’m interested in watching her ride me, her petite tits bouncing as she drives up and down the length of my shaft.
And now I am hard. So hard it hurts.
I don’t answer. Which is an answer in itself.
Damn, I need to get out of here.
I catch sight of the crowd that had earlier surrounded her and use it as my excuse. “Your entourage seems to be returning. I’ll let you attend to them.” I will myself to turn and walk away, but my feet don’t move, and before I know it, I’m leaning into her, so close I can smell her natural scent underneath her floral perfume.
“My offer stands if you want it,” I say quietly. “Come and find me. I’ll be here.”
Shit. Now I’ve done it. If she has any sense, she’ll tell me not to bother waiting around. It’s my only hope.
But when I straighten, her eyes lock on mine, and I can’t help but think she might be as twisted up over me as I am about her.
“Genevieve,” she says, holding her hand out to me.
I barely manage to mask the shock that runs through me when my hand clasps around hers. “Chandler. Chandler Pierce.”
Her brow rises in recognition, and for the first time in my life, I’m worried about my reputation. Usually, I wear my name like it’s a designer brand. My name gets me things I like. Gets me out of speeding tickets and into the arms of pretty women.
But I’ve never cared who the pretty woman was—this time I do. This time, I want the pretty woman to be this one. I want Genevieve.