Page 116 of Stolen Rebel

Hello, beautiful.

I knock back my drink and set the glass on the bar. She sees me coming from a few feet away. A small smile lifts her full lips at the corners, and she shimmies her hips and beckons to me.

She says something in Italian. I shake my head and point at myself. “Irish.”

“North or south?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” She opens her arms. I slide one hand around her waist, and the other captures the back of her neck. “What’s your name?”

“Darragh.”

“Darragh.” She rolls it around her tongue like she’s tasting decadent Swiss chocolate. “I’m Luciana.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” The old lines are still the best, proven when she smiles. Everyone loves compliments. In this case, though, it’s a hundred percent true.

“I don’t dance with many men.”

“Why’s that?”

Her nose wrinkles like she smelled something bad. “They’re so boring.”

“How do you know I’m not boring?” I’ve been called many things in my life, but boring isn’t one of them. She can’t possibly find me boring.

“I don’t. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“How long do I get to impress you?”

A red-tipped fingernail trails over my chest, my abdomen. She cups my dick through my trousers. “I’d say you already have.”

I’m leaking pre-cum already. There’s something so fucking hot about a forward woman who knows what she wants and isn’t shy about taking it.

“Want to take this somewhere quieter?” she asks.

Is that even a question? “Where’d you have in mind?”

She slides out of my hold, crooks her finger, then weaves through the crowd. I almost trip over my feet in my haste to follow her. When the bar narrows to a dark corridor, it’s my first moment of hesitation. I check my gun but leave it holstered for now. If she’s a plant by the Santoros, I’m ready, although I doubt they’d make a move on me yet or possibly at all.

I needn’t have worried.

“The bathroom?” I arch a brow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never done it in a bathroom?”

I lock the door. “Several, actually.”

A pink tongue sweeps over her top lip, and she gives me the full head-to-toe treatment. Guess that wasn’t the flex it sounded like in my head.

Okay, then.

I close the distance between us, snap a hand around her neck, and devour her mouth like I haven’t tasted a woman since 1876.

Truth time: I tasted one last week, but this woman. This woman is like Louis Vuitton compared to Penneys department store. Champagne vs. cheap plonk. Silk instead of polyester.

I don’t register that she’s unzipped my fly until I feel her soft palm grip my dick and give it a tug. I groan, my balls getting way too fucking excited way too fucking early. If they shoot their load after ten seconds, I’m filing for divorce.

The slender straps holding her dress up give way easily, and I feast on her breasts, sucking and pulling and biting her nipples.