Page 40 of Ravage

Cam

There's only one person who would be messaging me like this, Imogen. Don't play games, it doesn't suit you. I'm not fucking anyone else, but not sure you can say the same, so yeah. Let's talk.

Guess he's worked out things between myself and Sebastian aren't strictly business. I'm tempted to bite back, but instead, I send the details for my local bar and tell him to meet me there in an hour. Then I start getting ready.

Fifty-eight minutes later, I'm sitting in one of the booths at the back, cupping my glass of whiskey in both hands while I check the time on my watch for the tenth time in five minutes. I'd gotten here early, having showered and dressed quicker than usual. I'd only bothered with mascara and lipstick, and pulled my hair back into a braid.

I hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing I'd put effort into my appearance when this is just drinks. Nothing more.

When he finally slides into the booth across from me, three minutes late, my nerves are in overdrive.

I hate this! Why am I so twisted in knots over this guy?!

Looking way too good in a black long sleeve shirt and jeans, he doesn't speak, just takes a mouthful of his beer and holds my gaze as his throat bobs as he swallows.

God, everything he does is sexy as fuck.

I clear my throat. "So."

He smirks. "So."

"Thank you for meeting me."

He chuckles. "Felt more like a summons, but sure, we'll go with your version."

I sigh. "Are you always such a sarcastic arsehole?"

"Yes. Are you always so snippy?" he shoots back.

"Only when provoked."

He just keeps on smirking.

Fucking sexy arsehole.

I take a sip of my drink just to avoid the silence.

His eyes light up, taking amusement at my obvious discomfort. "So, what you're saying is, my charming personality provokes you to behave out of character?"

I meet his gaze, lifting my chin. "Something like that."

"Well, then I guess we should just avoid all further interactions, then." His eyes are full of challenge, as though he's calling my bluff.

"Maybe we should," I reply, crossing my arms.

"We definitely shouldn't fuck again." He lifts his beer back to his lips.

I swallow. "Definitely not."

"Because then you'd have to deal with all those pesky feelings. And you don't do those, right, Imogen?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Right."

"Well, I'm glad we talked." He goes to get up, and I straighten.

"Sit down, you giant pain in the arse."

He eases back into his seat, his eyes still filled with amusement.