Page 16 of Easy
‘Would you like me to prove it to you?’ he asks, amused. ‘Like I said, even the crazy need—’
‘And I’m sure you meanlovingin the most euphemistic terms.’
‘Actually, I was going to say a good fuck, but we can pretend it’s love you need, if you like? But we both know better. A good revenge fuck,’ he says, looking over his shoulder to where Julian still stands. ‘As for Julie Andrews, despite what you might think of me, I didn’t spring from the depths of hell fully formed and this gorgeous.The Sound of Musichappens to be one of my mother’s favourite films. I could even list you a few ofmyfavourite things. Would you like to hear them?’ I shrug, appearing uninterested, which is the opposite of how I feel. ‘Maybe later I’ll just show you instead.’
‘How do you do that?’ I pull away, realising he’s somehow standing even closer to me. ‘How do you make everything sound ... so sexual.’
‘It’s a gift,’ he says. With a flick of his finger, he summons the barman. For someone who seems to live for teasing, I’ve also noticed the absolute authority he wears like a second skin. ‘Drink?’
‘Vodka tonic.’ In a bucket, preferably. ‘You can add it tomytab,’ I add pointedly.
‘Doubles,’ he says to the barman, holding up two fingers. His other arm leans against the bar top, one foot balanced on the silver coloured ledge near the ground. He’s a picture of ease and confidence. And why wouldn’t he be with a face like his. Charisma like his. A body like his.
Stop it. Stop. So you have eyes. So does half this room, and he’s not schtupping them, either.
I slap my clutch on the bar next to him and hop onto the tall barstool behind me when his fingers catch the back of the seat, swinging me to face him.
‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ He brings his head level with mine, and I notice for the first time the incongruent flecks of gold in his blue gaze. ‘Earlier, you said I make you nervous? Well, you’re just pissing me off.’ He straightens again, his jaw flexing, his gaze now concentrating on the barman. ‘Do as you’re told for once in your life. You might even find it’s actually fun.’
My heart bangs in my chest, his words echoing something that Kallie had said on the phone. What would it feel like to be on the end of that kind of intensity? And before I can even object, my mouth seems to decide now would be a fine time to find out.
‘So if I was, hypothetically, about to offer you a proposition. With, say, a monetary component.’ His head turns slowly to meet mine. I moisten my lips, swallow, and begin again. ‘You wouldn’t be interested?’
Of course, the barman takes that moment to slide our glasses in front of us. By his sardonic expression, he’d heard every nuance of my suggestion.
Today’s headline: Tourist Jailed for Soliciting.
I may turn puce from head to toe. More mortifying still is when Will doesn’t wait for him to leave before answering.
‘Women don’t pay me for what I’m going to give you. That level of pleasure just isn’t for sale.’
The dark promise in his words hits me right between the legs. Not that anyone could guess by my answer.
‘You’re so full of yourself,’ I mutter as I grasp my glass and turn my head. I’ll look anywhere but at him.Or the terrace,I think, swallowing painfully.
‘We’ll see who’s full of whom a little later. And for the record’—he makes a show of looking at his watch—‘my shift is over. I’m off the clock as of now.’
And I really don’t have an answer for that or his smug expression.
We finish our drinks in silence. The second round goes down a little less bitter, I find. By the time Will orders our third, I’m feeling loose limbed and pleasantly numb. So when he grabs my hand and insists we dance, after drink numberI’ve-lost-count,I don’t put up much of a fight.
‘What’s your favourite colour?’ he asks, pressing my hand to his shoulder, the other he rests on the curve of my hip. A slow number is playing, and though there isn’t really a designated dance floor, it doesn’t seem to occur to Will that this perhaps isn’t that kind of party. Despite this, people sitting at tables nearby smile as we begin to sway.
‘Blue. I like blue. Hey.’ I reach around me as his hand slides to my ass, lifting it to a more PG height.
He sighs heavily. ‘So the blokes at the table behind you can stare at your arse, but I’m not allowed to touch.’
‘That’s right. Looky but no touchy.’ At least, until I say so.
‘I tell you, plum, I’m finding that pretty hard to do.’ His hand drifts again, this time his palm pressing against my bare back. I feel the spread of his fingers against my skin and struggle to suppress how the sensation affects me. It’s been so long since a man has touched me. So long since another’s touch has roused my body.
‘Plum?’ Pressed to his chest, it’s hard not to inhale the scent of him, and he smells divine. A heady, spice cologne cut with something clean. Underlying notes of cedar, maybe?
‘Plum is officially my favourite colour. And somehow, I know you’ll taste tart and sweet, just like the first summer plums.’
‘It’s just lipstick,’ I murmur. ‘Lipstick doesn’t taste much of anything.’
‘How do you know that’s what I was referring to?’
