whispered into his ear, “That girl over there--.” She pointed toward naughty nurse “--who, if I’m being honest, needs a good shagging—said you’re the hottest man in here. That’s quite a compliment.” She smiled at him, and he grinned. Holy Hell. That smile nearly knocked her ass sober. But it wasn’t just those full lips, although spectacular, his smile glittered in his dark eyes, crinkling the corners, lowering his lashes so that they fanned out. Devastating yet full of wicked promise. And wasn’t that just perfect considering current condition of her panties?
Still, he offered no retort to her brazen comment as the seconds ticked by. This flirting thing was more difficult than it looked. Eve always made it seem effortless. Karis would have to credit her for her mad skills later.
“So, it’s convenient that there’s one seat right next to you, Mr. Wolf. Kinda lends itself to the irony of our costumes, huh? Just think, if I was dressed up as the grandmother, I’d be in a heap of crap right now! But then again, once you ate me, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to fit into the grandma nightgown with your being so big and--” she ended, waving her hand to dismiss the image. His eyes widened and then he belted out a laugh, and, mercy , how yummy was that sound. Yep, she just implied she wanted him to eat her. Not that she’d mind at this point. Dear Lord, she was in trouble. Karis dug deep for some sobriety. And as much as she could with three and a half very strong drinks obscuring logical intentions, she really tried to collect her thoughts. Really, she did.
Big fat fail.
Why? Because the sexy bastard took another swig of his drink, leaving a shiny wetness on his lower lip that had her gripping the edge of the bar before she lapped it up like a dog in heat. The heat that had managed to maintain a steady burn throughout her neglected pussy and create shamelessly erect nipples…which, now he was currently noticing. Of course he did. The whole frickin’ bar probably did. They were all but on display beneath the almost-see-through lace bustier. She managed to place her arms across her chest before inadvertantly dropping her eyes to his lap and --.
Ho boy. Wetting her dry lips, she cleared her throat again and considered her odd situation. This quiet mass of male sex certainly wasn’t rejecting her. His heated stare and substantial bulge between his legs begging her eyes to take another gander clearly said he was interested in her. Flirting sucked. She felt like a goddamn dentist. Extracting a word from that sexy mouth of his was now her mission. Decision made.
She propped her elbow on the bar and her chin on her fist. “I saw you watching me from over here . What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf. They’re the color of smooth toffee, by the way.” She paused to lean closer than any sober person would have and pointed at one eye, drawing little circles with her index finger. She moaned. “But they have a dark chocolate border around them, like nummy little desserts.” Her body jolted backward as the comment tumbled from her mouth. Decadent eyes. She darted her eyes between all his features as recollection forged split-second lucidity. There was something about him. Oddly familiar.
Tall.
That smile.
Those decadent eyes.
“Thank you, Karis,” he said quietly, arresting her analysis. She shut her eyes to catalog the sound. When vertigo forced them open again, his eyes were slowly trailing over her red hood down to her breasts, scorching every inch of her skin with his inspection. She flushed and hated herself for it. “You look sexy as hell tonight, sweetheart. Everyone was watching you.”
It registered loud and clear. That unmistakable timbre brought all the memories and fantasies into Technicolored sobriety.
Holy Shitbrick. Michael Finn. She was certain. Her mind scrambled to make a decision. Stay focused. Stay logical, Karis. Yes, he was a key player in the most embarrassing
Still, he offered no retort to her brazen comment as the seconds ticked by. This flirting thing was more difficult than it looked. Eve always made it seem effortless. Karis would have to credit her for her mad skills later.
“So, it’s convenient that there’s one seat right next to you, Mr. Wolf. Kinda lends itself to the irony of our costumes, huh? Just think, if I was dressed up as the grandmother, I’d be in a heap of crap right now! But then again, once you ate me, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to fit into the grandma nightgown with your being so big and--” she ended, waving her hand to dismiss the image. His eyes widened and then he belted out a laugh, and, mercy , how yummy was that sound. Yep, she just implied she wanted him to eat her. Not that she’d mind at this point. Dear Lord, she was in trouble. Karis dug deep for some sobriety. And as much as she could with three and a half very strong drinks obscuring logical intentions, she really tried to collect her thoughts. Really, she did.
Big fat fail.
Why? Because the sexy bastard took another swig of his drink, leaving a shiny wetness on his lower lip that had her gripping the edge of the bar before she lapped it up like a dog in heat. The heat that had managed to maintain a steady burn throughout her neglected pussy and create shamelessly erect nipples…which, now he was currently noticing. Of course he did. The whole frickin’ bar probably did. They were all but on display beneath the almost-see-through lace bustier. She managed to place her arms across her chest before inadvertantly dropping her eyes to his lap and --.
Ho boy. Wetting her dry lips, she cleared her throat again and considered her odd situation. This quiet mass of male sex certainly wasn’t rejecting her. His heated stare and substantial bulge between his legs begging her eyes to take another gander clearly said he was interested in her. Flirting sucked. She felt like a goddamn dentist. Extracting a word from that sexy mouth of his was now her mission. Decision made.
She propped her elbow on the bar and her chin on her fist. “I saw you watching me from over here . What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf. They’re the color of smooth toffee, by the way.” She paused to lean closer than any sober person would have and pointed at one eye, drawing little circles with her index finger. She moaned. “But they have a dark chocolate border around them, like nummy little desserts.” Her body jolted backward as the comment tumbled from her mouth. Decadent eyes. She darted her eyes between all his features as recollection forged split-second lucidity. There was something about him. Oddly familiar.
Tall.
That smile.
Those decadent eyes.
“Thank you, Karis,” he said quietly, arresting her analysis. She shut her eyes to catalog the sound. When vertigo forced them open again, his eyes were slowly trailing over her red hood down to her breasts, scorching every inch of her skin with his inspection. She flushed and hated herself for it. “You look sexy as hell tonight, sweetheart. Everyone was watching you.”
It registered loud and clear. That unmistakable timbre brought all the memories and fantasies into Technicolored sobriety.
Holy Shitbrick. Michael Finn. She was certain. Her mind scrambled to make a decision. Stay focused. Stay logical, Karis. Yes, he was a key player in the most embarrassing
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