Chapter 215

He was ridiculously handsome, dangerous and untouchable.

Elena couldn’t stop staring.

As if he felt the weight of her gaze, the man turned his head. His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at. There was a quiet intensity in that gaze, as if he could strip her apart from across the room. His lips quirked.

Elena’s breath caught. She immediately looked away, cheeks burning, heart hammering. But it was too late. He was already moving. Each step he took was smooth and confident, unhurried, like a lion approaching a kill. He stopped just beside her, placing his drink down.

“I believe that’s mine.” His voice was deep, rough, like whiskey and smoke.

Elena blinked. "What?"

He nodded at her glass. "You ordered a martini. That’s a bourbon."

Her pulse quickened. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t…..”

“No harm done.” His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate. “Although most people can’t take their first sip of that without coughing.”

She stared at him, flushed but trying to sound confident. “Maybe I’m not like most people.”

He smirked. “You don’t look like most people.”

That made her chest flutter. She took another sip of the drink, burning again, but this time, she swallowed it without flinching. He watched her do it.

“You always watch strangers this openly?” he asked, voice deep, smooth, and edged with amusement.

But somehow, she didn't look away. “Only when they look... that good.”

He chuckled, slow and dark. “Dangerous line, sweetheart.”

Elena tilted her head, pushing past the warning in his tone. “Then maybe I like danger.”

“I’m Ryan,” he said finally, offering his hand.

She hesitated for half a second before slipping hers into his. His grip was warm, firm. His skin felt expensive.

“Elena.”

“Elena.” He said her name like he was testing it on his tongue. “Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. “That’s original.”

“I wasn’t aiming for the original.” His smile tilted sideways. “Just honest.”

He stood closer now, barely an inch between them. She could smell him something like cedarwood and clean linen and power. Her heart wouldn’t stop thumping in her chest.

“You look too young for this place,” he said suddenly, scanning her features again. “You sure you’re over twenty-five?” His blue eyes pinned her in place.

She met his gaze without flinching. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, clearly not buying it, but not pressing it either.

His thumb brushed the rim of her glass, his gaze dropping to her lips. Elena laughed a little, sipping more of the whiskey. The warmth settled in her belly like a slow fire.

The way he looked at her, it made her forget how young she was. She should’ve walked away, should’ve found her friends. But the way he looked at her like he wanted to devour her, sent a thrill down her spine.

“Seems you’re not enjoying it here much. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m with my friends. They must be around,” She took a sip. “Are you alone?”

His laugh was dark. "I own the place."

Her eyes widened. Before she could react, his fingers traced the bare skin of her thigh, just where her dress rode up. A jolt of electricity shot through her.

They talked. Flirted. She teased. He leaned in closer, dangerously so. Somewhere between her third drink and his second, her limbs grew heavier, her laughter a little too loud. Her skin tingled. Her mind blurred. Every time his gaze dropped to her lips, she felt something deep twist inside her.

Somewhere along the way, she leaned too close. Their bodies touched as she adjusted herself on the stool. Her skin lit up under his fingertips like an electric wire.

“You keep doing that,” she whispered.

He looked down. “Doing what?”

“Touching me like you don’t even realize it.”

His eyes snapped back to hers. “Oh, sweetheart. I realize.”

Her heart crashed into her ribs and something inside her snapped. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the way he said sweetheart like it meant something sinful.