Hard Rules

Chapter Three - Part Two

This is book one in my DIRTY MONEY SERIES! I will be sharing part of the first four chapters every day for the next 10 days in celebration of book three BAD DEEDS coming out on AUGUST 8TH! LEARN MORE AT LISARENEEJONES.COM/DIRTY      

"The food has arrived," our waitress announces, and I jolt, tugging my hand from Shane's and feeling like a busted schoolgirl and bringing attention to myself I don't need or want.

"Here you go," our waitress announces, setting a plate in front of me, the scent of butter and spices teasing my nose, but I am suddenly no longer hungry. In fact, I feel a little queasy. Noting the way the waitress has set her stand in front of Shane's side of the table, I grab my purse and round the seat opposite him and murmur, "I'm going to the bathroom." I don't look at him but I feel him watching me, willing me back to my seat, while he remains somewhat, thankfully, trapped.

"In the back of the main dining room," the waitress calls after me.

"Thank you," I murmur, pretty sure it's not loud enough to be heard, already almost to the bar exit. I pass the leather wall and I stop, my gaze landing on the front door and an easy escape.

"Bathroom?" Susie asks.

"Yes," I say. "Please."

"Behind me and all the way to the back and left."

"Great. Thanks." Following her directions, I cut left, away from the exit, relieved Shane hasn't shown up, and actually thankful I haven't made it out the door. If I'm to start a new life, I can't hide in my apartment out of fear. I have to pay the bills, which means navigating Shane and every other person, and situation, I might face. This is my life now and I have to learn to cope with questions I don't, and won't, answer.

I pass through the dimly lit dining room that is far too long, giving me way too much time to think and yet I can't think. I reach a long hallway that cuts left. I'm almost at the bathroom door when suddenly my wrist is shackled, and another second later, I'm against the wall, with Shane's big body crowding mine.

My hands land on the hard wall of his chest, his legs framing mine. "What are you doing?" I demand.

"You're upset."

"You just shoved me against a wall in a hallway," I say. "Yes. I'm upset."

"That's not why you're upset."

"I'm a very private person."

"Good. So am I."

"You have me shoved against a wall," I repeat. "In a public place. And you kissed me. In a public place."

He cups my face. The act is possessive, a claiming driven home by the way that autumn scent of his teases my nostrils. "That wasn't a kiss," he declares, his mouth closing down on mine, his tongue pressing past my lips. The instant it finds mine, the taste of spiced cognac fills my senses. Another lick and I moan, my fears, the public place, and my secrets fading away, for the first time in an eternal month. This, him, is what I craved this night. Not brown butter ravioli and fancy wine. I don't fight to remember the privacy I've declared I value. My fingers curl around his shirt, and suddenly I am kissing him back, my body swaying into his, the warmth of his seeping into mine, but it doesn't last.

As if he was waiting for my total submission, he tears his mouth from mine, denying me his kiss, and I'm left panting. "That was an appetizer," he declares, his voice a low, sultry rasp. "And you were right. Alone is better, which is exactly how I planned to spend this night. Until I saw you and alone wasn't better anymore. And now I know why. You want what I want."