It Was Never Just One Night

CHAPTER 4

Serena’s POV

I should have smiled politely, gathered my purse, and walked out the door I came in through.

Go home, Serena.

I had made myself a promise. Nine months of keeping it…

But one look into this man’s smouldering eyes, the deepest shade of blue framed by impossibly long dark lashes, and I felt all my defenses crumbling.

“Only if you make it worth my while." I picked up my glass.

“Oh, I will,” he declared with a cheeky wink.

This man was strikingly handsome, with olive skin, black hair that was slightly curly, and a mustache that perfectly framed his upper lip.

"So," he said, leaning in, his voice low because the music had climbed another notch behind us. I took in a steadying breath, and his rich leather scent filled my senses. “Are you going to tell me your name, or do I keep calling you Red?"

"Red works," I teased.

"It does." His eyes moved over my face, lingering on my lips, before meeting my eyes again. "But I'd love to know your name."

“Fiona McKay,” I blurted out without thinking.

I didn’t know where that came from, but I had never been sexually attracted to someone like I was to him, and maybe giving him a fake name was my way of still keeping that promise I made all those months ago.

“Fiona.” He said it low, trying it out—and something about hearing it in his deep, husky voice made me wish I gave him my real name.

"Vincent Cabot," he offered back.

The bartender appeared, and Vincent ordered another round for us.

"So, Fiona…” The way he said the name made me wish I were a Fiona. "Tell me something true about yourself."

“Something true?" I raised an eyebrow. Was he on to me?

"You were sitting at a bar alone on a Friday night. You've had," he glanced at my glass, "at least two of those. And you've been sitting here like the rest of the room doesn't exist." His eyes came back to mine. "I want to know who does that."

"Someone who needed a quiet moment," I replied.

"And was it working?"

The bartender set our drinks on the counter, and I looked at Vincent—his chiseled jaw, his mouth, and the way his eyes darkened as he watched me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.

"It was," I said. "Before you sat down."

He didn’t bother hiding his pleased smirk. "I'll take that."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know." He took a sip of his fresh drink. "I'm taking it anyway."

God, he was cocky. He was also gorgeous in a way that was becoming a real problem for me. His shirt was open at the collar, just one button, and I was trying very hard not to undress him with my eyes. His hands were back on the counter, and I had been aware of them since the moment they grazed mine, imagining what they could do.

I squeezed my thighs together under the bar counter to relieve the ache I felt in my core.

Calm down, Serena.

I picked up my drink and took a long sip.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Event planning. I run my own agency,” I stated.

"So you walk into a room and immediately know how to make it work."

"Something like that."

He tilted his head. "Is that what you're doing right now?"

"No," I answered. "Right now I'm just sitting here."

"Liar." His voice was calm, but his gaze was beyond heated.

"You've been reading me since I sat down."

I had. I absolutely had.

"You're used to being in charge." I kept my voice even, betraying the heat pooling low in my stomach. "And you're not used to people not giving you what you want."

He propped his chin on one hand.

"And are you?" he said. "Going to give me what I want?"

Our eyes met as tension bounced between us.

I fluttered my lashes and tucked my bottom lip into my teeth. "Depends on what you want."

I was tipsy. The drinks had done their job and loosened my tongue.

And it had been too long. That was the problem. This man was too attractive, I had had three drinks, and my body was acting on its own.

“Red.” His deep, husky voice dropped.

"Vincent," I breathed.

"If I asked you to get out of here with me." He paused, holding my gaze. "What would you say?"

I looked at him, letting the silence stretch between us. I focused on his face, his mouth, and the patient way he was watching me.

"I'd say ask and find out."

Desire flared in his eyes…

Then he pulled out his wallet and threw a few hundred dollar bills on the counter. He stood to his full height and turned to face me, with his hand held out, palm up.

I glanced between his hand and his face before putting my palm in his.

His fingers closed around mine, and the heat from his hand shot up my arm instantly as I stood from the bar stool.

He was so tall that even in my 4-inch work heels, I only came up to his chest.

He released my hand and settled a palm against the small of my back as he guided me through the cocktail lounge. At the entrance he paused to retrieve my blazer from the host.

Then we stepped outside to the cool night air.

Valencia Street had emptied out. A black Mercedes-Maybach SUV sat at the curb with its engine running, but neither of us moved toward it.

He turned to face me as I looked up at him.

We were standing too close, and the tension between us was even thicker out here in the open.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then came back up with effort.

I leaned in…

And his hand slid around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. His hard c**k pressed against my stomach, and a slight shiver ran through my body.

His other hand cupped my jaw to tilt my face up…

And my eyes fluttered shut the moment his lips met mine. The warmth of his lips spread through me instantly, from my mouth all the way down to my core.

It was one small kiss, and he pulled away in an instant.

I opened my eyes in confusion to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

“No, please." I hoarsely whispered as I gripped the lapels of his jacket to bring his lips back to mine.

This time, I opened my mouth for his tongue to play with mine, and the soft scratch of his mustache against my lip made me want to kiss him more. In that moment, as we got lost in the kiss, I forgot every single thing I had promised myself.

All of it, gone.