Craving You

Fire roared through his veins. His cock sprang to life.

“Ah, shit,” Chip said with a sarcastic chuckle. “You don’t recognize her at all? Tague, that’s L.L.”

His head whipped in his friend’s direction. “What?” he demanded.

“That’s L.L.,” Chip repeated. “From the coffee shop. The girl you met yesterday?”

“Oh, hell, no,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “That,” he argued as his gaze returned to the sexy redhead, “is no girl.”

“I suspected you’d feel that way when you saw her like this. She prefers to be called Loralai in the club.”

Tague watched as Loralai scanned the immediate crowd. Over the heads of patrons gathered around the bar, her gaze caught his and held.

He felt a jolt deep inside, equivalent to a physical blow. She nearly knocked him off his feet with her direct stare, those glowing green eyes, that enticing mouth forming an “O” as she let out a breath of air at the sight of him.

Tague experienced a hint of vindication. The heat that flashed in her emerald irises mirrored the burn-factor she left in her wake.

Without taking his gaze from Loralai, he said to Chip, “You’ll have to excuse me.” He set his glass on the bar and moved away, skirting the small conglomerations and stealthily making his way toward the spiral staircase.

He attempted to reach the first step, but a gargantuan of a man wearing a tux moved in front of him, forcing Tague to break the eye contact with his object of desire.

“I’m sorry, sir. There’s no access here.”

Tague glared at him.

“It’s okay, Brent,” came the sultry voice of the woman who instantly had Tague twisted in knots. “I think he’s here for me.” The security guard—or perhaps bodyguard?—shifted to the side and her attention returned to Tague. “Correct?”

“You already know the answer to that. Don’t you, Loralai?”

She gave him a megawatt smile—and there was the dimple he obsessed over. “Another pleasant surprise,” she said.

“Apparently, I’m full of them. And so are you.” He held his hand out to her and helped her down the last step. Her skin was warm and soft. Her long, French-manicured fingers were slender, though he felt the strength in them. And yearned to feel them trailing over his chest, his abs. Wrapping firmly around his cock and pumping slowly.

He stifled the growl that swelled in his throat.

Brent released the dark-blue, satin-covered rope and she moved through the sectioned-off area, closing the small gap between her and Tague.

“Nice place,” he said. “Guess that answers how you became a connoisseur of premium champagnes.”

Her emerald eyes sparkled. “They’re a weakness of mine.”

His gaze didn’t waver as Tague told her, “I want to be a weakness of yours.”

Loralai’s heartbeats accelerated. She couldn’t catch her breath. She hoped she appeared calm and composed on the outside, because what was happening on the inside...

Holy hell.

Even having had a good fifteen minutes to accept the fact that Tague was here at the club—since she’d seen him come through the entrance with Chip via the surveillance cameras projected on screens in the upstairs office—she still couldn’t reconcile all the riotous emotions within her. The wild fluttering of her stomach. The delicious, yet conversely taunting thrumming between her legs.

Her nipples were pebbled peaks against the thin material of her dress. She didn’t have to glance down to know her arousal was evident. Couldn’t look down was more accurate. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Tague’s.

Nor was she in any hurry to pull her hand from his.

Though the way he appeared so oblivious to his surroundings—to everything but her—did make Loralai anxious over having ventured downstairs when she’d seen him enter the club.

That intimidation she’d mentioned to Jace wasn’t related to his high-brow status. It was wrapped solely around Tague being such a commanding presence. So much so, everything about him literally seeped into her veins and turned her blood molten.

But he was here. And she’d left the office because she’d mysteriously felt compelled to show him this side of her. Chip apparently had as well.