“That doesn’t mean anything,” I murmur weakly.
Landon smirks and leans over the table, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his dress shirt. “Your body stacks ammo against your words. It often knows of your surroundings before you ever will. Never underestimate it, Charlie.”
I nod. What else can I do? His words make sense, and the way my name leaves those lips puts me in a daze. I’d agree to anything he says.
The waiter places another martini in front me. I instantly grab it, breaking our eye contact, and down the contents, needing the distraction.
“Are you?” I question, nibbling my bottom lip nervously.
“Am I what?” he asks, running his hand over the back of his neck, making his shirt tighten against his chest.
“Are you affected by me?”
He smirks and takes a large sip of his drink, peering over the rim of the glass as he nearly drinks it all.
“You look very appealing in that black dress,” Landon flirts, his eyes squinted at the corners as a smirk crosses his smug face. He’s dodging my question.
I giggle, the effects of the martini beginning to take their toll on my body.
“It’s from the thrift store. Still think it’s appealing?” I laugh, pulling at the worn material of the dress. Landon chuckles and stares off, and I can’t help but smile myself. There is something about his laugh that’s contagious.
“I think you look ravishing nonetheless.”
My laughter falters, and I swallow hard. I can’t keep up with my body’s reaction to this man.
“So, why are you staying in such a bad area? Where is your family?” Landon prods, taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t have any family,” I mumble, the overwhelming feeling of isolation creeping its way into my chest.
“Nobody? Not even an aunt?” He looks at me with pinched brows, like I’m forgetting some long-lost uncle and just not realizing it. But the truth is, there’s nobody.
“No, nobody. Not a cat, not a sister, nor a mother,” I grit, the situation starting to weigh heavy.
Landon sighs and sits back in his chair. “That has to be lonely.”
My eyes whip from the tablecloth to him. The word ‘lonely’ doesn’t even compare. It’s much more than the word ‘lonely’ can ever justify.
“It is,” I whisper and he tilts his head, looking at me with admiration.
“You’re a strong girl to be trying to live all on your own.” He gives a genuine smile which makes me warm to my toes. It’s not easy not having a mother to talk to at night, a father to speak reason into you before you do something stupid. Usually, when someone gives words of sympathy, it pisses me off. But when Landon looks at me with understanding, it feels genuine and comforting.
“Come, let’s go to my room,” Landon demands, standing from his chair.
“What?” I question frantically, my body heating suddenly.
“You’ve been drinking, and at the very least you’re tipsy. Come to my room, clean up and sleep it off,” he instructs, running his hand through his hair.
The tone of his voice tells me I have no say in this. My legs go weak with the simple action of him swiping his hand through his hair, but goddamn if he doesn’t look exotic when he ruffles it all out of place like that. I don’t know why I do it, not a clue why I don’t deny him, but I don’t.
“Okay,” I whisper, standing and accepting the offer to run off with a complete stranger.
Landon takes me to the back of the bar, punching the button on the elevator. I risk looking at him, finding him gazing at me from the corner of his eye. Tingles course through my body like a sea of ecstasy when our eyes catch. A twinge in my chest makes it difficult to breathe, causing me to draw in a slow breath. This man affects me on levels I can’t understand.
The elevator dings, catching our attention. Landon hits the highest floor number once we’re inside, and rests against the wall, still staring at me hungrily. The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife.
“So, why were you with that boy?” Landon asks, his tone serious as he emphasizes the word ‘boy’. I laugh, feeling giddy from the alcohol.
“I told you, ‘cause I was his whore.”
Landon sighs and looks at the elevator doors while I shrug and stare at the floor. Calling myself a whore doesn’t feel good, but there’s no justification for what I did with Chasen other than I fooled around with him and took money more than willingly to provide for myself. Like Chasen said, I had no problem taking the money afterwards. I was a greedy whore. I wince at the harsh thought.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Landon states calmly, his features calculated.
SEVEN
CHARLIE