As a bellman stepped past, Hunter waylaid him for directions. In less than thirty seconds, he was jogging through a casino, up a flight of stairs.
As he reached the top, the electronica music throbbed through his body. Ahead stood a set of frosted double doors. The club’s name sparkled across them in glittery paint: SIN
Hunter stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, then scanned the area for Kata. Thirty seconds later, he spotted her at the bar, drink in hand, tossing clear liquid back with one swallow, then sucking a lime.
Shit, what exactly had he done to f**k with her head? He flipped through their encounter mentally, but nothing stood out except the explosive connection and earth-shattering orgasm that had obliterated any in his memory. She hadn’t gotten her ménage, didn’t like the lamp on. She hadn’t seemed this disturbed about anything until the sex was over. But something about their connection had made her cry.
She’d panicked a little when he’d gotten possessive. That, Kata was going to have to learn to live with, because it wasn’t going to go away.
Slowly, Hunter circled the room. He watched her push her glass forward, order another, then suck it down immediately, chasing with a lime. She repeated the process. Thank God for one small favor: She’d paused somewhere to put on her bra. Not that it kept guys from leering.
A tall punk in a baseball cap and baggy-ass jeans approached her, a come-on based on his body language. Hunter was close enough to read her lips and bit back a chuckle. His Kata knew creative ways to say no.
Then his smile fell. He couldn’t let her use those creative ways on him. He wanted her again, bare skin sliding against his as he slid as deeply into her body as possible. In fact, “want” was a weak word. He itched, craved, needed.
When the would-be Romeo stalked off, and Kata was sucking down her next drink, Hunter approached. “If you’re looking to get trashed, you’re doing a great job.”
She snapped around to meet his stare. “Why can’t I get rid of you?”
Hunter considered his possible answers, then went for the one least likely to cause more conflict. “You can’t party alone, honey. And you just pissed off the last guy who approached you. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“This isn’t funny, Hunter. I told you we’re done. Stop stalking me.”
So she preferred straightforward? Fine by him. “I got to you enough to make you cry. What did I do to bother you so damn much?”
She ordered another drink from the bartender, refusing to look at him. “Just because we spent an hour between the sheets doesn’t mean I owe you any answers.”
“How about a little common courtesy, then? I won’t leave until you tell me what the hell is wrong.”
As soon as the bartender set down her drink, she tossed it back in one long swallow, following with another lime that made her wince. “That, right there. You demand and push. You try to control me. I told you I don’t roll that way. Now f**k off.”
An independent woman like Kata? No surprise she’d feel that way. But her body had said something totally different. When he’d taken control of her orgasm and granted it on his terms, she’d been afraid ... right before she’d gone off like a killer fireworks display. She might not want to be controlled, but a big part of her got off on it.
“You can tell me to f**k off all you want, but I’m not leaving you. First, I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. Second, you’re alone, which makes you a target for any predator looking for an easy victim tonight. Third—”
“Third, I’m a grown woman and I won’t put up with this shit.” She shook her head. “I moved out of my childhood home the day I turned eighteen and lived in terrible rat traps to avoid more of the kind of shitty mind games you’re playing with me. I don’t need a carbon copy of my stepfather.”
Her stepfather? Damn. She had family issues. Ugly ones, from the sound of it. That changed everything—including his tactics.
He softened, coming closer, encouraging her with a caress. “Tell me about him, honey.”
At her signal, the bartender handed her another drink. With a toss of her head, she poured the shot down her throat. “Tell me where to find your off button.”
Stubborn, independent, funny. She’d be pissed off if he told her how adorable she was right now. Not that she wasn’t frustrating the f**k out of him. But no matter how grouchy she was . . . well, he’d been called a mean motherfucker more than once because he’d earned it.
“Did your stepfather hit you? Because I’d never lift a finger to you, ever. I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries.”
“My family is messed up, but we’re not an episode of Cops in the making. You’re loco.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that I’m crazy. I’m also persistent.”
“No.” Her mock surprise dripped sarcasm. “I would have never guessed!”
When it came to defense mechanisms, she had an arsenal. Good thing he had his own weapons.
As she signaled for yet another drink, he grabbed her hand. “You’re going to make yourself damn sick if you keep that up.”
“That’s my choice.”