I’m hanging by the crowded bar, waiting in line to place my order, when a shadow looms over me. Spicy cologne tickles my nostrils, and every nerve ending on my body is on high alert. What the hell is with that? Why do I keep reacting to him like this? “What do you want, Dillon?” I clip out, working hard to keep a neutral tone.
“You to look at me, for starters,” he says, pressing his mouth right to my ear.
A full-body shudder works its way through me, and I hate that he most likely noticed. Steeling myself, I turn sideways and look up.
His lush lips part, and air spills softly from his mouth as our eyes engage and the outside world seems to evaporate. Fire kindles in my chest, spreading lower, and I lick my dry lips, wondering if spontaneous combustion is actually a thing. Dillon’s eyes drop to my mouth, and electricity charges the tiny gap between our bodies.
This is not happening, and I’ve got to put a stop to it now.
“What?” I croak, averting my eyes.
“Look at me,” he growls, tilting my chin up with one of his fingers. Tingles explode across my face, and from the way his jaw pulses, I’d say he felt it too.
“Why?” I challenge, feeling out of sorts and wanting to get the first shot in.
“Because apologies should always be made face to face. Only cowards apologize when someone is looking at their feet.”
“Okay. I’ll bite.” I’m curious to see if this is bullshit to appease his beloved sister or if he’s capable of any genuine emotion.
He arches one dark brow. “Didn’t peg you for a biter,” he rasps, his seductive tone doing funny things to my insides.
“I’ve been known to bite,” I reply, deliberately biting down on my lower lip.
His greedy eyes follow the movement, and my core throbs, reminding me I’m still a sexual being with needs. Needs that haven’t been properly fulfilled in months. My little electronic friend doesn’t count because there’s no substitute for a real cock.
“My sister and Jamie tell me I’m wrong about you.” He leans his face in extra close, and I stop breathing, staring into green eyes that look almost green-blue in this light. “Maybe they are right.” Grabbing a few stray strands of my wavy hair, he tucks it behind my ear. His fingers brush my earlobe, and I’m close to testing that spontaneous combustion theory.
“Dil.” A whiny voice breaks the spell, and we jerk back from one another.
“Not now, Aoife,” Dillon grits out, not even looking at the sexy blonde.
“But—”
He turns around, clenching his jaw. “I’m trying to have a private conversation here. I’ll talk to you later.” It sounds like he’s taking great effort to not snap at her.
Predictably, she scowls, throwing me a scathing look before she saunters off, sashaying her hips in an exaggerated fashion. Pity for her Dillon has already turned back around to face me. He opens his mouth to speak just as the bartender calls my attention. Giving Dillon my back, I lean over the counter, shouting my order over the background music. Spinning around, I find Dillon’s eyes glued to my ass, and I fold my arms, slanting him a knowing look.
“What?” He shrugs. “If you don’t want guys staring at your arse, you shouldn’t wear tight leather trousers.”
“Was there a reason you accosted me?”
“Accosted? That makes me sound like some pervert.” He smirks that annoying smirk, and I narrow my eyes at him.
He chuckles, and I’m two seconds from throat punching him. “Aren’t you?” It’s not like I’ve forgotten what went down in my bedroom. Even after changing my bed that night and washing the sheets, I still couldn’t look at them without seeing him with that skank, so I ended up throwing them in the trash. And let’s not forget Ash saw him tag-teaming Aoife with Jamie. Though neither of the guys knows she witnessed that.
Seeing something in my gaze, he loses the grin, fixing me with an earnest expression. “I’m sorry for acting like a giant bag of dicks.” He’s smothering a smile again, and this time, so am I. His entire face lights up when he smiles—his eyes sparkle and two cute dimples appear in his cheeks—and I’m a goner. It’s like being sucker-punched in the ovaries and the boobs at the same time.
“Why did you?” I ask before I can question the wisdom of it.
“I have my reasons.”
“And you’re not going to share those with me?”
“If it was something I felt you needed to know, I’d tell you.” He jerks his head at something or someone behind me, and before I can stop him, he’s paid for my drinks.