Page 21 of Irish King


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I placed my hand on her bare shoulder, holding her in place. The electricity at the contact of our skin was instant and incredible, enough to make my heart skip a beat, to make my blood rush through my veins. She stared up at me with wide eyes, her mouth open slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I said. “Not until I’ve gotten what I want.”

That wasn’t entirely true. What I truly wanted was to turn her around, to hike that dress up her thighs and tear off the skimpy, thong panties she no doubt had on underneath, bury my cock into her, and make her come, hard.

“And what is it that you want?” She was still fearless, not scared in the slightest.

“Answers.”

She narrowed her eyes, the surprise fading and being replaced with anger. She shrugged her shoulder and tossed my hand off.

“First of all, what the hell do you think you’re doing touching me like that?”

I chuckled, still amused by her boldness. “And second?”

“Get the fuck out of my way. I’m leaving.”

I shook my head. “You’re fascinating, you know that?”

The woman cocked her head to the side. I could sense that my comment had knocked her off guard, confused her.

“Fascinating? And why is that?”

“Because by coming back here, you’ve put yourself in a very precarious position.” I placed special emphasis on the word, making it obvious that it was a euphemism for dangerous. “But you don’t seem to be the least bit concerned about that.”

She gave me another hard, lingering glare before rolling her eyes and stepping back a bit.

“Listen, my husband’s waiting for me, probably wondering where the hell I am. Or, even worse, he’s lust-drunk off all the boobs flying and this place and in the process of turning our net mortgage payment into twenties to stuff into the thong of whatever dancer comes within groping distance. Either way, I need to get back there.”

She wasn’t done. Her gaze shot to the corners of the hallway, toward the cameras.

“I see that everything’s being recorded. That means, whatever threats you’re implying, if you were to be stupid enough to actually follow through, I’d subpoena the footage and make sure your ass was put away for a long, long time.”

I arched my eyebrow; this was certainly one more surprise. She spoke with authority and confidence, enough so that I found myself wondering how she knew the law so well.

“You seem to know what you’re talking about. Just who am I dealing with here, exactly?”

Her eyes flashed, and I sensed that she realized that she’d possibly offered up a little too much information about herself.

“Just a woman who’s watched enough true crime documentaries that she’s managed to pick up a thing or two about how the law works.”

I chuckled. It was another lie, but I didn’t want to press. I had other ways of finding out what I wanted to know.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“One more thing before you go.”

“And what’s that?”

“Come have lunch with me tomorrow.”

She cocked her head to the side once more, appearing unsure that she’d heard me right.

“Havelunchwith you tomorrow?” she closed her eyes, placing her fingertips on her forehead. “Let me just make sure that I heard you right… you asked me to have lunch with you tomorrow?”

“You sound surprised. Surely a woman as beautiful as yourself is used to men asking you on dates.”

My comment gave her another pause. It seemed as if she wasn’t used to hearing such direct compliments. The idea struck me as strange. I’d been flirting, but I’d also spoken the truth about how much male attention she must be the recipient of on a regular basis. Her reaction to my words, however, suggested that this wasn’t the case.

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