A new story of dangerous temptations from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the This Man trilogy.
Annie has never experienced the 'spark' with a guy-that instant chemistry that renders you weak in the knees. That is, until a night out brings her face to face with the dangerously sexy and mysterious Jack. It's not just a spark that ignites between them. It's an explosion. Jack promises to consume Annie, and he fully delivers on that promise.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of their one night together, Annie slips out of their hotel room. She is certain that a man who's had such a powerful impact on her must be dangerous. She has no idea that he belongs to another. That he's forbidden.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he calls to the barman. “Two tequilas,
please.”
“Tequila,” I muse, looking over my shoulder when the salt and lemon
land behind me. “Is that my challenge?”
“Crying off?” he goads, reaching into his pocket and pulling out
some notes.
“Never,” I scoff, turning into the bar. I don’t know what his game
is, but I want to play. With him. “You’re asking me to prove I’m sober by doing
a shot?” I narrow my eyes on him, teasing. “Or is your plan to get me drunk and
take advantage of me?”
He smiles to himself as he pays the barman. “You don’t look like
the kind of woman who could be taken advantage of.”
“What kind of woman do I look like, then?” I challenge quietly.
He turns into me, watching me for a few moments. “I don’t know, but
I think I’d like to find out.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, no retort coming to me. I think
I want him to find out, too, just as much as I want to find out what kind of
man he is. My eyes drop from his
sparkling greys, down his tall, lean frame to his feet.
Oh…fuck…
“Let’s play,” he says, moving in closer and pulling one of the
glasses forward. I don’t mean to, but I yank my arm away abruptly when he
brushes against me, startled by the tiny stabs of pleasure that pitter-patter
all over my skin. The fleeting touch tells me he would feel as good as he
looks, and—give me strength—he smells divine, all manly and earthy and fucking
edible.
The sudden lapse in movement and talking from both of us becomes
slightly awkward. I can feel him looking down at me.
“What do I have to do?” I ask again quietly, almost on a breathy
gasp.
He clears his throat. “You’re not drunk?”
“Not even the slightest bit.” I raise my nose in the air.
“Good. Then you’ll smash this challenge first time.” He places a
finger on the brim of one of the shot glasses. “Brace your palms on the edge of
the bar,” he orders, firm but softly. I look at him, finding a serious face.
“Go on.”
Frowning, I place my hands on the edge of the bar. “Okay?”
He takes my hips. He takes my fucking hips! I freeze from top to
toe and swallow hard, waiting. My insides are quickly furling, my mind in
chaos. “Move back a bit,” he says, pulling at them a little until I step back.
Oh, Jesus. I’m on fire. I have a strange man bending me over a bar
in public, and me, Annie I’m-immune-to-men Ryan, isn’t fighting him off. It’s
like he has me under a spell. What gives? I dare not look behind me. I’m not
stupid enough to think Lizzy isn’t currently watching a man manipulate my body
to where he wants it.
“You feel tense,” he observes, releasing me and moving back to my
side.
I don’t deny it; neither do I confirm it. His big hands felt so
good resting on my hips, so much so I have to resist not claiming them and
putting them back where they were. “What now?” I ask, evidently struggling for
air, damn me.
“Now.” He picks up his beer and grins. “I get to gloat that I had
you bent over a bar within five minutes of meeting you.” He takes a swig, still
grinning, and I hear the roar of a man down the bar laughing his head off.
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