Definitely doing that again sometime.
“You don’t even have to pay,” she says as the stench of cigarettes and beer roll off her.
Eve’s face appears at the end of the table, and her lips turn into a thin line while I deal with the girl in my lap—the wrong girl in my lap. Very deliberately, I make eye contact with Eve, watching her as I speak to the stripper who is still tugging at my shirt.
“He’s down for the count,” I say with a smirk, referring to the limp appendage she’s grinding her hips against. “Just fucked my girl. You should go.”
Elise stops and leans back, and her eyes follow mine to Eve. She rolls her eyes before moving off my lap and back across the table, crawling over the top and shaking her ass to the music.
But I only notice her out of my peripheral, because my attention is focused on Eve. Her damn gravitational force seems to hold me captive, and I’m still deciding how I feel about that.
I’m not opposed to caring about her, but I’m also not sure that it’s a good idea. Especially given our situation. She was paid to get into my bed. That’s why she’s here, even though I know she’s slowly starting to actually care about me.
I strongly believe she’s not here as a spy, because she never asks any questions, and she’d love nothing more than to hide in my room with me all day.
She never snoops, and I’ve left things out intentionally to lure her in. Nothing I’ve planted has interested her in the least bit, and there are hidden cameras everywhere that she hasn’t found. If anything, she goes out of her way to avoid all the tidbits of information. If she’s a spy, she’s the worst one ever.
She’s an anomaly, and I really love learning more about her. But at the same time, she’s a Marks.
As she slides into the booth, her eyes move to the banished stripper who has started dancing on Mack and the others at the booth beside us.
“Sorry. You said hurry, so I did,” Eve says under her breath, not looking at me as she brings her drink to her lips.
“Glad you did,” I say while leaning down to her neck, placing a kiss on it and waiting for her to shiver.
When she doesn’t, I lean back and watch her as she stares vacantly at the stage. I’m fairly sure she’s pissed, but I have no idea as to why. Unless it’s because I wouldn’t let her kiss me again.
“Something happen?” I ask her, watching as her drink pauses at her lips on its return.
She actually looks as though she’s surprised by my question, and then she shakes her head. “Nothing happened. New dancer is on,” she says with no emotion, and her drink finds its way to her lips as she feigns interest in the stripper.
I look over at Sarah who is rolling her eyes at me, and Snake stifles a grin while looking away. What the hell is going on?
“Care to tell me why I feel like I should apologize?” I ask, dropping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her resistant body against mine.
She’s been more combative tonight than she has been all week.
“No reason. As you said, you’re Drex Caine, and you’ll fuck who you want whenever you want to.”
What the hell does that mean?
“I’m fairly positive you wanted to fuck me too, considering you were the one who instigated that. And I didn’t hear any complaints when you were coming on my dick.”
Her eyes narrow on the drink, but I’m pretty sure her glower is meant for me. She’s sexy when she’s pissed.
“I didn’t have a problem with you fucking me.”
I love it when she curses. It sounds so hot coming out of that sweet mouth. In fact, I’ve actually considered recording it and putting it as a ringtone on my phone.
“Then what’s your deal?”
She forces a tight smile and shrugs. “You’re missing all the good stuff,” she says, pointing to the stage, but my eyes stay on her.
She doesn’t look at me again. For two solid hours, she stares at the stage and pretends as though that’s what she wants to look at. And every so often, she’ll smile or laugh at something Sarah leans over and says. But she ignores the hell out of me, and I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
No one ever ignores me. And she’s sure as hell not supposed to.
“I’m fucking beat,” Snake says, groaning as he scrubs his face with his hands. “I’m ready to head back.”
“Better make sure the fed is gone,” Liza says while sipping a beer. “He’s probably waiting to pull your drunk asses over.”
“He’ll get slapped with a harassment charge for stalking me all night,” I growl, growing increasingly pissed as Eve continues to ignore me and any conversation I’m involved in. “Besides, feds don’t pull over people for DUIs. He’d have a uniform do it.”