The Wildcard

Chapter Four

“I really want to slap you,” I said quietly, not surprised in the slightest when he gave me no response except a shrug of his broad shoulders beneath that pale cotton shirt.

What was the worst thing about this was that, in actual fact, I was really wrestling with that devil on my shoulder not to go with him. Not to stand up, drain my glass, and pull him out of Pearly Gates and into the nearest ... well, anywhere to be honest.

He was actually that compelling.

“I really want to fuck you,” he smirked over to me, “Maybe we could combine the activities.”

I groaned – ignoring the frissons of excitement – the burning urge to reach out and smooth my hands over his muscular body – pull the buttons open gently and feel his bare skin against me.

“Do these lines usually work for you?”

“These aren’t lines, I want you to know where you stand.”

“Or lay, you know, because that sounds so much more fucking appropriate right now.”

I rolled my eyes as I braced my neck back against the cold leather – why wasn’t I walking away? Bristling with rage and affront like I had so often in the past when I’d been propositioned like this – well, not exactly like this – but similarly blunt and ... well, yeah. There were no other words.

And still I sat there.

He chuckled at me coolly – his thumb brushing against the nape of my neck under the swathe of thick, blonde hair that I’d swept over to one side.

“Stop thinking into it so much. I’m not saying that right now, we’ll be climbing aboard a horse and galloping off into the sunset so that I can ravish you and throw you back into your village as a fallen woman. I’m just saying, at some point this evening – which stretches out in front of us – I will be inside you.”

My voice dropped into my stomach at his words – why did that idea – those words, and that phrasing – why was it suddenly so potently arousing? My entire body quivered at the thought of such a primal wording – the whole concept of sex shifting in my mind as I thought it over.

My God, I knew this man – to deny this man – I’d be depriving myself of something profound. It might not be moonlight and roses, it might not be gentle touches under the stars – but just from that look of raw, feral masculinity that bled through his words, and seeped into his icy eyes – I knew it was something I didn’t want to miss.

Before I knew it, my lips were back to his. I’d made my decision – if there ever actually was one – and somehow, it didn’t feel like I wanted to spend another second of that night not touching his flesh – not feeling him.

Inside me.

It was starting to look like I’d maybe be taking my last night of living on the wild side a step too far.

It didn’t take long for his mouth to take control of the kiss – dragging flustered and heated responses from my body. I was already breathless, already desperate and aching for his touch – even as his tongue was endlessly probing into my mouth – even as his hands were drawing tiny circles on my bare leg through the long slit in my dress. Restlessly, I moved my knee over both of his, just wanting to draw him closer to my core.

My head was spinning from his lips on mine, as my body was teetering on the edge of a blazing inferno of lust that raged through me.

I’d never been so affected by a single kiss before – never felt this driving, roaring force in my body that screamed to belong to him in the most basic way that I could.