Page 9 of Legs

“She is. The lady knows her wine.”

Like I needed to find her more attractive. “Looks like you win. Shall we get a cab?”

Her shoulders hitched back toward her ears, the pulse below my finger revving, and an adorable, nervous laugh bubbled out of her. She grabbed the flyer at my side and scanned it, a reminder I should tuck it in my pocket before leaving.

She toyed with the corner of the page. “Just so you know, I never do this sort of thing.”

That had me frowning. She’d walked into the bar looking for me, or something I could offer her. A craving I felt in spades, but I’d only go there if she was all in. “I need an elaboration.”

“The one-night-stand thing. I don’t do them. I mean, I’ve had casual sex, but it’s never happened on the first date. Or the second. Not that this is a date. Obviously. But the only reason I’m here is because my friends peer pressured me, and there was a fourth glass of wine, and Cameron messaged one of them that you don’t have children locked in your basement.”

Mental note to thank Cameron, and damn if her honesty wasn’t refreshing as hell. Candor that had her pulling away, the promise of unravelling her inhibitions slipping through my fingers. I’m not sure why I walked into Vesper earlier. I’d avoided women like her the past two years, for good reason. But her innocence, potential dirty mouth, and how she savored her wine had me tied in knots.

“Are you attracted to me?” I asked.

She angled her knees my way, a blush creeping up her freckled chest. “Yes.”

“That’s half the battle. The other half is this.” I placed my free hand on her knee, gentle pressure, the antithesis of the fire building under my skin. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve wanted to rip a woman’s clothing off her so badly. If you let me, I’ll have you relaxed with one touch.”

Her shoulders trembled. “Because you do this often?”

“The one-night thing?” She nodded, and I held her gaze. I didn’t lie to women; I knew how devastating lies could be. She either got on board with the little I had to offer, or I’d let her walk away. “I’ve done this, yes. If I have an itch, I scratch it. But it’s not a weekly occurrence. By the looks of things, I’d wager you’re itchy as hell.” One of my hands was still on her neck, the other on her knee, a connection I hated to relinquish. I dragged my thumb under the edge of her jaw. “Bet I could ease the burn for you.”

Her eyelids fluttered, her long lashes almost blond toward their tips. “How about a rule?”

“I’m game.”

“No names. No strings. One night, and that’s it. If I know I’ll never see you again, I might be able to relax and enjoy myself. And even though I won your little game, I’d prefer your place. More wine will help, too.”

I’d normally have talked and joked less with a woman before taking her home, but I would have learned her name. Basic conversation. No fun bets and intriguing wine discussions.

I could live without names, though, and no strings was the only way I rolled. “Done. I still need to know why you shouted ‘eating pussy’ at Vesper.”

She shook her head at the ceiling. “My friend and I were bitching about guys and how much easier it would be if we were lesbians. Then we started talking about the logistics of it, but the music was loud and we were shouting when it shut off, hence the incident.”

Again she had me wanting to know more, ask more. “What was the result of this conversation? Are you curious? Interested in experimenting with women?”

“You sure are nosy for a one-night stand.”

“It’s not every day a woman shouts ‘pussy’ in a club.”

“Alcohol and I have a love-hate relationship.” She paused, attention fixed on her fingers until she smirked. “I said that if I were with a woman, I’d probably freeze up.”

“Because?” I was taunting her, testing how far I could push her boundaries.

She sipped her wine, her nose lingering in the glass. The rim was barely out of her lips when she said, “Change of topic, please.”

Those boundaries wouldn’t bend easily, but I enjoyed a challenge. I leaned in close and dragged my nose along her cheek, breathing deep along the way. She smelled like the ocean—mint and jasmine mingling with her arousal. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

Three

Rachel

I attempted to peel my eyes open, but my lids were dry and gritty. The movement sent bursts of pain through my body. Everything ached—my head, my back, my calves all throbbed in unison. Maybe I’d been hit by a Mack Truck, or bulldozed by a derailing train. Possibly dropped from an airplane to test if girls dumb enough to follow strange men into bars could withstand the plummet to Earth.

The light streaming through the window made me wince, another sharp stab slicing through my temples. I fought the urge to melt back into the mattress and blinked. Or tried, at least. My eyelids were glued to my contacts.

A few thousand blinks later, I rolled my tongue around my gums. My mouth was thick and stale, like I’d eaten one of Ainsley’s vegan desserts.