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“Nice to meet you, Cora. That’s an Aussie accent, right? Take a seat.” Jonathon gestures to the stool behind me and my eyebrows shoot up at the order.
“You know what? I think I’ll stand. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to ask a lady nicely?” I squint at him.
“She did. She also taught me that eavesdropping was rude.” His eyes sparkle with amusement.
Shit.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught out again. I hate blushing—there’s no hiding it. Thanks to my mother’s northern Italian genes, my skin can’t mask anything. When I’m embarrassed, angry, or aroused, it’s right there for the world to see. If I could change one thing about myself, it would be to hide my emotions better.
“How much have you had to drink?” Jonathon’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He inspects me from head to toe, as if he can assess my sobriety with a single look. At five foot two, I’m no model, but I know how to work with what I’ve got. He towers over me, and I curse myself for choosing flats instead of heels tonight. At least my hair is on point—smooth brown waves cascading down my back—and my jeans are doing their job, highlighting my curves, making my ass look fantastic. Small wins.
“Excuse me?”
Ignoring my biting tone, Jonathon signals to the bartender and orders a water.
“It’s a simple question, Cora. How much have you had to drink?”
“Why do you care?” I snap back.
The bartender sets down a bottle of water and a questionably clean glass with ice. In the background, his friends have shifted from crude jokes to quoting terrible pickup lines.
I eye the water, my resolve weakening. Hydration wins out over pride, and I grab the bottle, taking a long sip.
“Because I consider myself a gentleman, and I don’t fuck drunk chicks,” he deadpans.
I choke on the water, spraying it everywhere.
What the fuck?
“I want my woman to feel every inch of me,” he says, lowering his voice, “sliding in and out, without her senses numbed.” He picks up a napkin and leans in, wiping the water from my chin. “Let’s hope you swallow better than that,” he adds with a wink.
Heat floods my cheeks as the pull of arousal in my abdomen drifts lower.
“Jesus, arrogant much? It’s a shame you’ll never find out.” My voice holds steady, but my mind is racing.
Damn it, I do love a challenge.
He leans in closer, and I catch an intoxicating mix of cologne, whiskey, and mint. His eyes scan my face, lingering on my flushed cheeks.
“Your blush is gorgeous, Cora,” he says, tone softening. “How about we make a deal? If I can make you blush again in the next minute, I’m coming back to your hotel room.”
“And if I don’t, what do I get?” I ask, pitching an eyebrow.
“My tongue in all three of your holes,” he murmurs, “as I tongue-fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”
Well… that’s a win–win situation if I’ve ever heard one.
The flames licking at my cheeks give me away, and we both know it. I’ve already lost this game—and I’m not sure I even want to win.
But I’m never one to back down from a challenge. I meet his stare with a playful grin. “Let’s make this more interesting.” My eyes flick to the pool table behind him. “How about a game of pool? If you win, I’ll come back to your hotel, and nothing is off-limits. I’ll be at your complete mercy—”
“Nothing?” he interrupts, eyebrows shooting up.
I roll my lips over my teeth to fight the grin from spreading. “Nothing,” I confirm, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the audacity of my offer. “But if I win…” I pause, thinking on my feet. The last thing I want is him coming back to my hostel. It’s not exactly the vibe I’m going for. “Same rules, but you’re under my control. Anything I say goes. You game?”
My sultry smile seals the deal.
“Let’s go.” The mischievous glint in his eyes spells trouble for me. But he doesn’t know what he’s up against.