Dahlia slipped her arm through mine. “Let’s walk, shall we?”
How did I go from having to convince her that she needed to go home to that secretive look in her deep, dark eyes?
She was a little steadier once she got to the hallway leading back into the main seating area of the bar, except for the way she kept brushing my arm with her breast.
A blond dude at the bar gave me a sharp look. He didn’t take his eyes off me while he asked, “Dahlia? You good?”
“Yes. We’re...friends. Don’t worry. Thanks, Colder.”
The way she paused at the word friends made me feel like worm food, but she was right. We weren’t anything except two people who’d already had a lot of hot moments, both fighting-wise and sexual. Not necessarily her choice, either.
I knew she would be open to more. Could feel it in the way she reached out for me. Not to mention all the words left unsaid in those beseeching eyes that haunted me.
I wasn’t good for her. Wasn’t good for anyone, really.
That didn’t seem to matter to Dahlia. She tucked herself under my arm and I had little choice but to put my arm around her. It was as if she was made for my body in so many ways. Her hand rested on my chest as we came to a pause in the median.
It was a community space of sorts lined with trees and benches, as well as a few dog-watering stations. It reminded me of Crescent Cove without the overt small-town vibe. This was more urban young professional.
“I need a little air before we go inside.” She steered me to the bench under the canopy of trees. “Clear my head a bit.”
When she looked at me like that, there was very little I could say no to when it came to her. I let her sit first and she grabbed my hand, to pull me down with her. “Hellcat...”
“I’m not asking for undying devotion here. Just freaking sit down for a second and be. Can you do that?”
Sighing, I sat down.
Instead of staying on her side of the bench, she swung her legs up across mine. “My feet are killing me.”
“No one made you wear those ice picks.”
She flexed her foot and her calves tightened. “But they make my legs look amazing.” She gave me a wicked smile when I said nothing. “I know they do. You don’t have to agree.”
I ground my molars together. “You know you’re beautiful.”
“And you know you’re an asshole. Some things don’t need to be said, right?”
“You’re a mouthy drunk.”
She leaned forward and said in an Irish whisper, “I’m just unfiltered. There’s a difference.”
“Is that right?” I didn’t realize I’d dropped my arm over her legs. My thumb automatically stroked her knee.
She licked her lips, her attention on my mouth, then suddenly, she leaned back on the arm of the bench, tipping her chin back to let her hair fall behind her. “This is nice.”
Nice wasn’t the word as far as I was concerned. She was stunning and so free with her emotions. Pleasure—bam. There it was, she took it as if it was her right. Anger—let it fly. Laughter—bawdy and unrestrained.
She made me want things I couldn’t ever deserve.
She lifted her head, then she swung her legs off me with a gusty sigh. “You are not relaxing.”
“I haven’t had as much tequila or food as you have.”
“True. You should have.” She stood and turned to face me. “Not everything is doom and gloom, Beasty.”
“You’re keeping that one in your outside voice?”
She cupped my face in both of her hands. “I’ve been known to tame a few animals. I’m not afraid of you.”
I tried to push her hands away. “You should be.”
She held firm. “You are your own worst enemy, you know that?” Her eyes were a little unfocused, but she wasn’t as drunk as I’d originally thought. Then she patted my good cheek. “Now I’m ready for my bed.”
An older couple sat across from us on one of the other benches. The woman was grinning at us and nudging her husband.
Dahlia grabbed my hand and dragged me across the crosswalk. The traffic had lightened, and her doorman was gone for the evening. She stopped outside the door. I was so busy looking around, assessing pedestrian traffic, that I collided with the back of her. I grabbed her around her waist, so she didn’t topple over.
She tipped up her head. “Need my key.”
My gaze drifted to those crimson lips of hers. Even after her drinking and eating, they were still a distracting siren song. They pursed into a half pout, half smile before she bit her lower lip.
Damn, her. She knew what she was doing. “Fuck it.” I hauled her into me and brushed my lips over hers.
Her arms twined around my neck, and she pressed every inch of herself against me. She tasted of salt and tequila and that certain something that was only Dahlia. I tried to keep it light, but as usual, there was no half measure when it came to us.
Her nails scraped into my hair as she pulled me down to her for a deeper kiss.
“Get a room!”
