“No.”
Riley was instantly intrigued. It wasn’t every day that Sam Taylor, the saucy little owner of the Diamond, made demands of him. With his intrigue, however, came a flicker of trepidation. Though he’d found himself stalling by asking the kid next to him to shoot some pool, he’d come here tonight for the sole purpose of talking to her, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she already knew what he planned to say. Her pale blue eyes had a serious glint to them, her delicate jaw set in a determination that made his palms go damp. Shit. He’d wanted her to hear it from him, but obviously the news had already reached her.
Which meant he now needed to explain to a woman he genuinely liked and respected why he’d bought the Diamond out from under her and unceremoniously fucked up her life.
He glanced at his opponent and said, “I forfeit.” Then he dropped the cue on the felt table and followed Sam to one of the secluded corner booths on the other end of the smoky room. His gaze instantly rested on her tight little ass, his fingers tingling with the urge to squeeze the rounded flesh. He tried to quell the unwanted jolt of desire that sizzled down his spine and grabbed hold of his balls. She always managed to do this to him, send him into a state of mindless lust, and frankly, he had no freaking idea how he’d managed to keep his hands off her for so long.
She’s different.
He smothered a sigh, knowing the little voice in his head was right. Despite what other people might think, he did in fact have a conscience, and two years ago that conscience had told him messing around with Sam Taylor was too sleazy, even for him. Truth was, he liked her. He would’ve liked fucking her too, but like the voice said, she was different. From the moment he’d met her, he’d known she wasn’t someone to toy with. She was too gorgeous, too intelligent and too warm to be treated like a one-night stand. And from him, that’s all Sam would ever get. He wasn’t cut out for relationships, never had been, and once he and Sam had grown closer, developed a platonic friendship he’d never believed himself capable of maintaining, he’d realized fucking her was officially out of the question.
But you’re not above screwing her, are ya?
He seriously wished his conscience would go bury its head in the sand and stop reminding him of his underhanded actions. Yes, he’d screwed Sam by going behind her back and asking her financial manager—who also happened to be a good friend of his—not to extend her loan. Call him an asshole, but he’d wanted the Diamond. Ever since he’d been forced to retire, he’d been looking for a way to pass his time. When he’d learned about Sam’s financial difficulties, he hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity of pouncing on the Diamond, and not even his fondness for the current owner could stop him from buying the joint.
Steeling himself for a fight, he slid into the seat across from her and arched one dark brow. “So what’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Sex.”
Huh?
He blinked a couple times. Wondered if he’d heard her right or if the lust he felt for this woman was making him hallucinate.
“Sex,” he repeated, though it was hard to speak when his mouth had become the Sahara Desert.
“Yep.”
Okay. She wanted to talk to him about sex? A confrontation he’d been ready for, but he was in no way prepared to talk about the subject of sex with the one woman he’d always wanted in his bed.
He swallowed, bringing much-needed moisture to his arid throat. His mouth dried out, however, the second Sam leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. His gaze strayed to her tits. Her very perky, very braless tits. Lord, why wasn’t she wearing a bra? The sight of her nipples poking against the thin material of her black tank top nearly caused his eyes to pop out of his head. He’d always liked her breasts, always wondered how they’d feel under his palms, how her nipples would taste when he sucked them between his lips.
“Riley?”
His head jerked up and when he met her gaze he could swear he saw a glimmer of satisfaction flickering in her eyes. What exactly was she up to?
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“What I was saying,” she said with a sassy smile, “is that I want to talk about sex. Actually, scratch that. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to do it.”
His cock swiftly sprang up against his fly.
“Got anyone in mind?” he managed.
“You.”
That one little word sucked the oxygen from his lungs and caused all his blood to pool in the southern region of his body. His cock grew even harder, like an uncomfortable slab of marble as it strained against his jeans. He was so stiff he could barely move, let alone talk.
“Is this a joke?” he finally asked.