“Rules were made to be broken, don’t you think?” She lifts a dark eyebrow. “What do you say? One drink and you can send me on my way.”
I frown, trying to think past the spell she seems to weave with her proximity. Spending time with guests on restaurant property is a firing offense. I really, really can’t afford to lose this job. “I’m sorry.”
Something flares in her blue eyes, and she moves closer. “My date left me.”
“What?” I’d seen her on the restaurant floor, of course. She seemed to own the room the second she walked into it.
I’d noticed the older guy she was with too. He wore an extremely expensive suit in the careless way of someone rich beyond measure. But it was the way he studied the room that drew me, the kind smile and cold eyes. He was just as attractive as she is, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes speaking of plentiful smiles for those he deemed important enough to bestow them upon. There was power in the way he moved, in the way he drew every eye in the room even though it appeared he only had eyes for this woman.
Apparently appearances can be deceiving.
I’ve always had shit taste in who I was attracted to. This couple seems like they’re no different. What kind of man leaves his woman behind after a dinner date? I should offer to call her a car. That is the reasonable thing to do. Not offer to take her to my place around the corner.
She gives me a slow smile. “I’m going to call a cab, but would you mind waiting with me?”
“Of course.” I know even as I agree that I’ll regret this. I grab my backpack and follow her out of the room. But instead of heading for the door like I expect, she takes a right turn and moves up a set of stairs that are strictly off limits. I stop short. “Employees aren’t allowed up there.”
“The owners and I are old friends.” She must see my hesitation because she motions to herself. “I’m not exactly dressed for the weather.”
She can say that again. She’s clothed in a sheath dress that stops a full three inches shorter than polite dinner wear, and the white fabric looks delicate enough to tear if I so much as touch it.
Not sure what it says about me that I want to rip it in half, but I’m the one in control. Not my darker impulses. “Okay,” I finally say and follow her up.
She leads me into a small loft apartment that the owners must use when they stay over in town. I step over the threshold, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve passed some point of no return. I try to shrug off the foreboding, but I can’t quite banish the weight of it.
The woman drops her purse on the couch and kicks off her heels. She shoots me a look. “I hope you don’t mind. I have a twenty-minute wait, and these heels are killer on my feet.”
It’s not like I have more than a shitty bed waiting for me at home. I gingerly sink onto the couch next to her. I’m a big guy, and there are times when it’s smarter to make myself smaller so I don’t freak people out. Women, especially. Women alone, extra especially. She asked me to wait with her, but I’d hate for her to regret it.
She doesn’t look anything but intense. She crosses one of those long, long legs over the other, causing her dress to slide higher up her toned thighs. I try to drag my gaze up to her eyes, to keep things polite, but I can’t quite manage it. There’s a tattoo there, something small and intricate. I think it’s a skeleton key. Part of me wants to push her dress higher to find out.
To discover if she’s wearing panties.
Damn it, I’m ogling her like some kind of creep.
“What’s your name?”
I manage to sit back, though now I’m battling the cockstand of the century. I look anywhere but at her, finally focusing on the truly hideous abstract painting across from the couch. “Hercules.”
“Someone’s parents had high aspirations.”
The last thing I want to do right now is talk about my parents. Even though I’m not living in the same city they rule anymore, it’s hard not to feel like I’m existing in the shadow of their disappointment. “Something like that.”
“I’m Meg.” She circles my wrist with her hand, her nails lightly pricking my skin, and it’s everything I can do not to moan. What the hell is wrong with me? This lady needs help, not some horny idiot who has half a dozen truly impolite thoughts running through his head.
I want to kiss her.
I want to push up that dress and see exactly what she has on underneath it.
I want to trace that tattoo with my tongue, to taste her.
Hell, I want to fuck her.
What the fuck is wrong with me? She needs help and I’m panting after her like some piece of shit guy who only sees tits and an ass instead of a person.
I’m acting like my father.
The thought is a bucket of ice water poured over my head. In that moment of clarity, I pull back, but she tightens her grip on me. I’m stronger than her. I can get free if I pull hard enough, but it means grappling with her and maybe hurting her. I go still. She raises an eyebrow. “I’ll give you a dollar if you tell me what you were just thinking about.”
No way in hell am I subjecting her to that. “That’s not a good idea.” If this was a different situation, if she wasn’t stranded, I might be willing to believe all signs pointing to her hitting on me. But it isn’t a different situation, and I can’t afford to assume shit.
“Try me.” Meg smiles and traces her nail across the inside of my wrist. It feels like my whole body narrows down to that single touch. “I might surprise you, Hercules.”
I clear my throat, trying to focus past the way her touch zings through my body. I feel drunk on her, even though I haven’t had a drink since I left Olympus. Maybe that’s why I tell her the truth. “You’re beautiful.” I look down at where her paler hand brackets my wrist. “That’s what I was thinking. That you’re beautiful.” Not the full truth, but then I just met this woman. I would have to be out of my fucking mind to tell her that I can’t stop wondering what her pussy tastes like. There are lines. There have to be.
“Oh, Hercules.” She sighs a little like I’ve said something that pleases her greatly. “You really are too pure for this world, aren’t you?”
If she only knew how quickly my thoughts had gone dark and filthy. “No. Not really.”
Her smile goes sharp. “I’m afraid I haven’t been perfectly honest with you.”
“What?”
Another of those sharp smiles that has my cock throbbing in response. What is she doing to me? I’m no inexperienced virgin. I’ve had plenty of fun with both girls and boys through my late teens and early twenties. I know attraction when I see it, when I feel it. But this is… different. She touches me like she can see the desires beneath my skin and takes great enjoyment plucking them one by one. I have the strangest suspicion that she could make me come without ever touching my cock.
The idea excites me.
Fuck. Everything about her excites me.
“I didn’t call a car.” She keeps up that movement against my wrist. Back and forth. Back and forth. “I was hoping to seduce you.”
My thoughts stumble over themselves as I try to make sense of what she just said. “You want to seduce me?”