Page 57 of Venomous Kiss

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

“Earl told me he saw you.”

“Earl?” I say, surprised.

“Yes, he works for me. And he remembers you.” His hand clasps around the glass, and I can’t help but remember how those hands clasped me so perfectly.

“So, you weren’t spying on me?”

He puts his glass down as I lift mine to my lips.

“Would you like it if I said yes?”

I shrug and say, “Maybe.”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. I want to taste his mouth.

“You can taste it. Just lean in,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I seem to be making a habit of it.”

“You did, and it’s okay, Caterpillar.”

“I’m drunk.” I huff.

He removes the glass from my hand and places it on the counter. He then calls the bartender over for a glass of water before he studies me. “Why are you drinking?” he asks.

“Because I’m getting in touch with my emotions and all that shit,” I say with a sigh.

“How?”

I meet his eyes and ask, “Do you really care? Where is your pretty little blonde?”

“I’m not with her anymore.”

I don’t show my shock at his words, but my stomach clenches in response. “Did that hurt you?”

“No, it did not. It’s not her I want.”

My pulse beats loudly, and I wonder if he can hear it. “You don’t really want me. You want the version of me that was broken and fucked you all night.” Someone coughs at my words, but neither of us cares.

“Not that I don’t appreciate making you come three times in one night”—he places his finger under my chin and raises my face to his—“but it’s you I want. The way you fuck, the way you talk, the little bit of crazy you hold in your heart. I want all of that.”

“What about my bad thoughts?”

“I’ll take them and eat them up.” His finger drops from my chin.

“Well, I don’t want you,” I state, turning around in my seat. “It’s not healthy to want you. Wanting you will set me back.”

“Did Arlo tell you that?” he growls.

I scoff. “I like Arlo. Why are you so mean to him?”

“Because Arlo always has a reason for everything he does. I just haven’t worked out this one yet.”

“I’m his client,” I remind him.

“You couldn’t afford him, and he doesn’t do pro bono.”