Page 18 of Restless Hawke

Those now-warm again blue eyes darken at my comment, and he reaches for another decanter and pours from that. His fingers graze mine as he slips the glass from his hand to mine. “Oh, I promise you, a good scotch has just as good of a burn as any bourbon, and there’s something about the rich, smoky, peaty flavor that you’ll become addicted to quite quickly.”

I take a sip of the bourbon, and the spicy heat dances across my tongue and down my throat as I swallow. “I’ll have to take your word on that.”

He takes a sip of his own drink, then advances, sliding his free hand around my waist and tugging me up against him—his hard, firm body as solid as a rock, an impenetrable wall, just like the man himself is at the poker table.

Undermostcircumstances.

Today, he was rattled. At least, momentarily. He managed to pull out the win, but I still succeeded in at least putting the tiniest hairline fracture in that wall.

Shaking him was harder than I imagined it would be. Apparently, what happened at the bar wasn’t enough to take him off his game.

Impressive and infuriating.

As is the way my body responds to his touch, his closeness, his scent.

He dips his head, his lips hovering just above mine. “Let me give you a taste so you can see what it is you’re missing.”

* * *

COEN

This is a terrible idea.

I knew it the moment she sat down across that table.

I knew it the second she smiled at me.

I knew it the minute she fuckingwinked.

I knew it when I followed her into the elevator after the game.

I knew it when I closed the distance between us.

I knew it when I allowed myself to cage her in against that wall.

I knew it when my lips brushed her ear, when that intoxicating, light jasmine scent invaded my lungs the same way it did in that bar.

I knew it when I led her in here.

I knew it when I wrapped my arm around her waist and tugged her up against me.

I know it now as my lips hover a mere hairsbreadth from hers, waiting for her response.

Please fucking God, say yes…

Gray eyes, the color of the storms that come in and hit New Orleans, churning up the warm waters and releasing heavy rain on the city, stare me down, unblinking, unwavering, from under thick, heavy, dark lashes.

Even now, she doesn’t give an inch.

Almost like she’s waiting to see how long my restraint will last.

Seconds tick by, feeling more like an eternity with her sumptuous curves pressed against me, the warmth of her skin permeating my palm, even through the material of her dress, her soft breaths mingling with my own.

Finally, she ghosts her lips over mine. I can’t even call it a kiss. More of a tease—something I’m learning this woman isverygood at. “I could be persuaded to have a little taste.”

Fuck.

My cock fully hardens at the sultry dip in her voice and the promise that lies in it, and it pushes against her taut stomach as I slam my mouth to hers fully.