Page 4 of Boss of Me

“You’reobviously used to the heat,” I blurt out.

He quirks an amused eyebrow.

“Because you grew up in Texas,” I clarify.

“I did. Been here all my life.”

Before I can respond, the waiter returns with our drinks. We pick up our glasses and gently clink them together.

“Cheers,” he murmurs.

“Cheers.” I smile and sip my drink, feeling the whiskey burn a path down my throat to my hypersensitive clit.

Dawson watches me over the rim of his glass. The heat in his eyes is more intoxicating than all the liquor served at every bar on this street.

“So you’re a whiskey girl, huh?” he drawls.

“Just depends on my mood.”

“Hmm. And what kind of mood are you in?”

I smile slowly. “A daring mood.”

His eyes lock with mine. The sexual tension sizzling between us is so hot it’s almost suffocating.

Three pulse-pounding beats pass before Dawson takes another sip of his drink.

I can’t help staring at the large, tanned hand wrapped around his glass. His fingers are long and broad with clean, blunt nails. They look strong enough to crush his glass with no effort.

They match the rest of him, I note, staring at the muscled bulk of his shoulders. He’s not as huge as some overinflated bodybuilder, but he’s definitely big enough to be intimidating. He looks rugged yet refined. Tough yet urbane.

Judging by the expensive cut of his blazer and the platinum watch circling his wrist, he’s obviously loaded. He seems out of place at this trendy hipster bar. He’d probably be more at home at some high-end restaurant with dark wood paneling, crisp white tablecloths and no prices on the menu. The kind of place that would bankrupt me just walking past it.

I watch as he lowers his glass from his mouth. His glistening lips make me want to rip my panties off and sit on his face.

“Do you do this often?” he asks.

I blush. “Do what?”

He leans slightly forward. “Go on blind dates.”

“No. Not really. Actually,” I confess, staring into his eyes, “you’re my first.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

The wicked gleam in his eyes sends an illicit shiver down my spine. There’s something seriously dangerous about him. Something that excites me, pulls at me, unravels my inhibitions like thread off a spool.

His lashes lower as his gaze drops to my mouth and lingers. “I wonder what other firsts I can talk you into,” he says in that obscenely sexy voice.

I lick my lips, pulse rioting. “I guess that’s for me to know . . . and you to find out.”

Chapter Two

gunner

Iam one dastardly son ofa bitch.