The Heir Read online

  As I danced, I mostly kept my eyes closed, just letting my body move to the music. Suddenly, mid twirl, I could feel a prickle of awareness. My eyes blinked open and I searched the crowd. I knew people were watching, but I didn't care. It was my birthday, and I wasn't going to do some strained, quiet dinner with Gabe where he gave me some present that had nothing to do with who I was. Being out. Being free. Friends, dancing. Fun. This was what I needed. I told myself I was being paranoid. Yes, men were watching, but there was no danger here. Except that feeling, the prickly heat sensation, moved from my neck to my limbs, and the hairs on my arms stood at attention.

  Someone was watching me.

  I danced and turned in a circle, looking for who was causing me the heightened fight reflex.

  That’s not a fight reflex. That’s a fuck reflex.

  My gaze flickered over a bloke who was about five-foot-ten and blond, and he took that as an invitation.

  His mate wrapped his hands around Tab's waist, pulling her into him. She smiled coyly at him as she turned around to get a good look at his face. The blond bloke started dancing closer to me, but the look I gave him probably terrified him because he did not touch me, which was in his best interest.

  I knew he wasn’t the bloke who had been staring at me because I still felt the kiss of hyperawareness and the tantalizing tug of adrenaline. Fight or fuck.

  The four of us danced. Tabs with her bloke, and me in the vicinity of the blond. The intensity grew as my breath rate increased. This was a flight response, a warning. More on edge now, I was less surreptitious about seeking out the source. Was there a problem? Was there danger? Was I paranoid? My instincts said no.

  My mother told me to never ignore that feeling. To always pay attention to my instincts and what they were telling me. She taught me not to react to it before taking in all of the information.

  Then I saw him. The man was watching from one of the booths. He was in the VIP section talking with another man who had a girl with blond hair and big fake boobs on his lap. She had big hair, extensions, the whole bit. Almost like she was a caricature of herself. He caught me looking his way, and our gazes held and locked. Then the barest hint of a smile tipped up the corner of his lip. He wore a long-sleeved white button down with the sleeves rolled up, showing off muscular forearms. His hair was artfully tousled as if he’d just run gel through it haphazardly. I could tell it was dark, curling slightly. He had on dark jeans. Maybe black. On one of his hands, he wore two rings. Silver or platinum, maybe. No visible tattoos that I could see. He wore something around his neck. I couldn't make out the design of the pendant, but it wasn't on a metallic chain. Maybe it was leather or something else.

  I purposefully angled my body away, dancing and turning my back to him just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. When I turned back to him, his gaze hadn't faltered.

  It was pinned on me. He cocked his head as if asking what I was doing. His half smile deepening to show a hint of a dimple.

  He'd seen me watching him, watching me, as if I was going to go over there and talk to him. He must be used to that. Given the VIP booth and the expensive but understated clothing, he was absolutely used to that. He understood power and expected to wield it. Well, he was going to be disappointed.

  My dance partner must have seen the direction of my gaze because he angled his body to block my view. And then he tried to start talking to me. "So, uh, you and your mate, you come here often?"

  I blinked up at him in surprise, not sure I’d heard correctly. "Sorry, what did you say?"

  I glanced at Tabs and the way she was snogging the other bloke, and I figured they’d be off to shag soon.

  He reached his hand back and rubbed the back of his neck. "You’ve been acting a bit stuck up. You’re not talking to me.”

  Was he serious? Maybe it was time to get another drink. "I'm just dancing. That's all."

  "Do you want to sit down somewhere and talk?"

  Talking was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do. "No, I'm just going to continue dancing. You go ahead though if you're tired."

  He frowned. "Well, you know, I thought we'd get to know each other better. Come on, we'll get some privacy."

  I shook my head. "No. I'm good."

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a bloody tease, practically showing me your arse. But now when I want to go somewhere and actually, I don't know, buy you a drink and talk to you, you're blowing me off?"

  I forced my tone to be neutral and unemotional. "I want you to hear me very clearly, whatever the hell your name is, and understand me. No is a full sentence. I'm not interested. Find someone else who is." Then I very deliberately turned my back on him. All the while, during our little conversational exchange, our bodies had rotated so the bloke in the booth could see us. Except when I looked back over, he was gone.

  My dancing partner shook his head and scowled, but he didn’t leave. I prayed he didn’t become a problem.

  Not that I couldn't handle a problem, but problems were messy. I executed another quick turn and was disappointed to find my man in the booth still gone. I couldn't explain the sinking feeling I had in my stomach, the wash of disappointment and the prickle of sadness that he wasn't there. I told myself it was just disappointment because it had felt nice. I’d liked the way he looked at me. Finally, blond bloke sulked off. Good riddance. But Tabs had dragged his mate to our booth, so I couldn’t go back there.

  "You handled him easily enough."

  I startled and turned slowly because I knew without a doubt who was behind me. When I glanced up at him, he quirked his lips in a smile. "I saw you watching me."

  I lifted my brow. "You were watching me first."

  "Are you sure? Or did I merely return your very direct stare."

  I laughed. "Are you shitting me? You were giving off serious creeper vibes. I almost walked over to give you a pair of binoculars."

  "My eyesight is excellent. Luckily, I did not need them. It was easy enough to spot the most striking woman in the room.”

  I rolled my eyes. "Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

  He gave me a broader smile then, and my stomach flipped, and the awareness changed into something else. A crackling electric tension. He was even more beautiful up close. His eyes were a startling, silvery, gray with thick, sooty lashes. His jawline and cheekbones screamed for their own magazine cover. And his lips... Well, they had a slightly swollen quality that suggested they might have recently been kissed.

  He was the kind of handsome you see in magazines and movies, not the kind of handsome you see walking around romancing all the people.

  He was also tall. Enormous actually. I was five foot eight, and he towered over me, so much so that I had to tilt my chin very deliberately to meet that silvery gaze. His eyes were so vibrant. To top off the Greek god façade, he had a cleft in his chin. It really wasn't fair. Under normal circumstances, I would not have stood a chance.

  But tequila was bringing out my sass. "You do think highly of yourself, don't you?"

  The grin was back, and I saw another flash of dimple. Oh, hell. This bloke was the kind of beautiful you only dream about.

  He shook his head. "Everyone should know what they’re working with, as I'm sure you do."

  I laughed. "Oh, flattery. You know, under normal circumstances, it would get you somewhere."

  He cocked his head. "Flattery is not going to get me anywhere?"

  "No. It's not. Good try though."

  He lifted a brow. "So what do you say? Are you going to actually let me dance with you, or will I be relegated to your last dance partner’s status of dancing near you while trying not to look creepy as I try to inch closer and possibly rub up against you?"

  I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh my God, you saw that?"

  "It was hard to watch. That man did not know how to treat a woman. I'm going to save myself the scarring pain of it all and just simply ask you if you're going to let me dance with you."

  I assessed him. My bel
ly was doing that flip-flop thing, but my belly was a liar. How many times had I had this feeling? That pleasant, amazing feeling of that first attraction when you feel all tingly, and your skin hums, and your lady parts warm, and you are thinking all systems are a go. Only to be insanely disappointed later when go time becomes show time and you are like, 'Oh God, please, God, no.' Still though, I liked the buzz. I liked the feeling of it. The way his lopsided smile made my skin tingle.

  I liked the way he was looking at me because I wasn't normally the woman men looked at like that.

  Under normal circumstances, I was surrounded by men twenty-four seven. And if even one of them looked at me like that, my brother would shut that shit down quick and send him on a mission he would never return from. But this bloke, he was someone I did not know. He knew nothing about me and just wanted to dance. And dance, I could do. Because dancing was the promise. Even if the execution was always weak, I loved the promise. The promise of fun and excitement and orgasms and laughter. I liked the promise above all. "Can you even dance?"

  He grinned. "Well, you know, there's only one way to find out. And hey, I'll even do you a solid. I won't actually touch you. You can touch me anywhere you want though."

  I laughed, albeit uneasily. How had he already seen all of that? "What do you mean?"

  "You seem like the kind of girl who deserves for me to earn the right to touch you. So why don't we dance for a bit? You can touch me all you want."

  His observance was doing things to my equilibrium and that weren't fair because he looked like the kind of person who would be amazing for something fun and easy and uncomplicated.

  But my life would always be complicated.

  Looking up at his easy smile, I felt myself nodding. I didn't even know why. I knew that this would only lead to disappointment, but it was my birthday and I wanted twenty-two to feel normal. I wanted twenty-two to feel like I could pretend for a moment that I was like everyone else. I could lean into the promise even if I wasn't going to deliver on it.

  I glanced up at him. "All right. Just why do you think I'm going to touch you?"

  His tongue peeked out to moisten his lower lip, and I couldn’t help but stare because... Jesus. He stepped toward me. Close, but not too close. I had room to maneuver. Room to run.

  True to his word, he did not put his hands on me. But his eyes never left mine. And as I placed my hands on the firm, packed muscle of his chest I could have sworn I heard the intake of his breath. Sharp. Subtle.

  And then we moved together.

  When he spoke, his breath tickled my neck. “I knew you would be mine.”

  Chapter Four

  Saffron

  Those two inches between us were equal parts a chasm and a magnet we fought against. Or at least I fought against it. He kept his word and let me touch him without touching me.

  Nervous, I forced my hand to stay on the center of his chest, but then his voice washed over me. That low mellow tone felt like Spanish coffee on a cold day and was hard to ignore as he whispered, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

  I was lost. Honest to God. He might as well have taken what was left of my panties and shredded them because, dear God, I was desperate for him to touch me.

  His gaze searched mine. And then he gave me that lopsided smile again. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to ask."

  I blinked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

  "You keep looking at me like you're waiting for me to do something, but I’m not that arsehole you were dancing with earlier. So if you want me to touch you, you are going to have to ask me to."

  His voice was a low rumble, and I could feel every word, every syllable, every fragment, deep down under my skin, breaking down on a molecular level to fuse with my cells.

  God, that was a good voice.

  It was a wake-up-in-the-morning-having-a-gorgeous-man-in-your-bed kind of voice, and he was talking to me like that in the middle of a crowded club where I had to lean in even closer just to hear him.

  All I could do was nod and whisper, “You can touch me.” I wasn't sure what possessed me to say the words, what possessed me to give my permission. But then he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans and pulled my hips in close to him, his gaze never leaving mine. I swallowed hard as the tingling started low in my belly. Holy Christ, I was aroused. The dull, insistent ache between my thighs refused to abate.

  With his fingers molded slightly around my waist, just at the upper curve of my arse, he pulled me in even closer, sliding his leg between both of mine. He started to move us to the beat of music, and oh my God.

  My pulse throbbed and my blood hummed. For the first time, I got it. I understood. I fully recognized why people made horrible decisions when it came to love and sex and who they should be with. It wasn't clinical. It wasn't something they did by choice. It was instinct. It was something they did because of a low tingle in their vajayjays. Women across time had made decisions based on this feeling. And I finally got it. I understood.

  He leaned in close, his whisper just above my ear. "Is this okay?"

  All I could do was nod. God, if only I had been blessed with the gift of saying the right thing at the right moment to seem sexy and interesting and compelling. If only I was Tabs. But no, I had nothing. I had no words to offer instead of staring at him, trying to find something to say.

  He gave me a dimple popping grin. "You make me a little nervous too."

  I cocked my head then. "What exactly are you reading as nervous?"

  He lifted his brow then. "It's the furtive way you look at me and the way you chew on the corner part of your lip. It's been driving me insane since I came over here. It's the way you're holding yourself so stiffly even though our bodies are pressed firmly against each other and you can no doubt feel how much I want you right now and you aren't backing away. So something tells me you like it. You are nervous and terrified, and I completely understand the feeling because you look like you are probably the kind of trouble I don't need."

  "Wait, you're saying I look like trouble? Hardly. Clearly you've seen a mirror, right?"

  He chuckled then. "I own one or two."

  "Right. So, I also know someone like you doesn't really need someone like me. You could have any woman in here."

  His brow quirked. "You could have any man, but you are dancing with me."

  "Hardly. Something about me usually puts men off." He was still watching me like I was the only woman in the room.

  “Who was the twat?”

  "The wingman. My mate is over there somewhere making out with his friend, so he assumed he was getting lucky too. He was mistaken."

  “Can’t fault his taste though.”

  I could feel a hot flush snaking up my neck to my face. I figured that was probably a line, but I felt special, nonetheless. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and he smiled down at me. "Saved by the bell. Why don't you get that."

  I swallowed hard as I reached onto my back pocket, my fingertips grazing his. His fingers flexed on my flesh just a little bit, making me ache in places I didn't know I could ache. I glanced down at the phone and saw it was time check protocol. If I didn't call Gabe within the next thirty seconds, he was going to send a detail to my location. "I have to take this outside. It's too loud in here. Will you be here when I get back?"

  I hated the sound of my voice, the hope. But if I didn't say something, I knew chances were he’d be dancing with someone who looked more like Tabs. And I definitely wanted to let him know I was coming back.

  “Ditching me already?”

  "I'm just… Oh, I'll be right back."

  He grinned at me. "I'll be right here."

  The way he said it was like he said it a lot. Like he was completely at ease saying something like that which meant he would not be here when I came back. Which was fine, because just the act of dancing with him was a religious experience. And that thing he did with his fingers, the way he pulled me in, my God. I was probably pregnant, and Gabe sensed i
t. Extrasensory perception. That had to be it.

  I fought my way through the crowd of packed bodies. When I shoved outside, I went around the corner to avoid the long line of girls scowling at me as they rocked back and forth from foot to foot on the cobblestones in their spindly little heels, rocking miniskirts and crop tops.

  I initiated the time check courtesy call and tapped in my code. "This is the Heir, checking in at 11:45 pm."

  The dispatcher's voice was dispassionate. This was the way it worked. Sure, Rogue's men were probably in rotation in a one- or two-mile radius from the club. Better if I did the time check protocol with my exact location so they wouldn't come in and pull me. Otherwise, I would have a very awkward tail on my arse in the club. I recognized that it was Daisy on the line tonight. "Hey, Dais."

  "Hey, Saff, how's it going?"

  I paced as I spoke, anxious to get back inside.

  "Good. Time check protocol."

  I could hear the smile in her voice. "Response?"

  "Evergreen."

  "You're all good. I'll talk to you at two."

  I smiled at the phone and hung up. I tried to tell myself my brother was trying to protect me, but still, I couldn't help but feel like I was in prison.

  That was a fight for another day.

  I turned to go back to the club and froze when I heard the voice. "All that and you came to me."

  I knew that voice. "Christ. Look, we don't need to do this."

  He grinned. "I think we do. You fucking insulted me. You’re not even the hot one."

  So he was one of those dicks.

  "If I'm not the hot one, why were you bothering to chat with me?"

  "So that my mate could dance with your mate and shag her in the loo. I was just doing him a favor."

  I had a million things that were simmering on my tongue to spew out. I did not want to make a mess. I did not want to give Gabe any more reason to not let me out. Nope. I was going to follow the rules, turn my arse around, and go back inside. "You know what? You have a good night. It's not worth it."