Filthy English (English #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,92

first degree attempted murder instead of facing the other two charges against him. His sentence had been life in prison with the possibility of parole later. That was fine. She’d gotten closure, and Declan was mostly satisfied. He liked to say that if Colby ever got out, he’d kill him, but mostly I think Elizabeth has tamed him.

Second, Dax and I had both graduated Whitman this past semester. He’d pulled out a 3.0 GPA with diligent studying and lots of alone time with me. We liked to study in bed mostly, although our focus wasn’t always a college class. His plan (yes, I’d helped him) was to get his real estate license this year as well.

The housing market had worked well for him. He’d sold his first home after living there for six months and had promptly bought two additional properties. I’d started a YouTube channel for him where he took people on virtual tours of the two houses and talked about the renovations. I popped in on the video to talk about birds, eighties trivia, tattoos—anything really to make people laugh. The fans, who were in the millions, ate it up. They loved us—mostly because he was gorgeous and had that sexy British accent. HGTV had even contacted us, inquiring if we’d be interested in filming a pilot in Raleigh about redoing older homes in the South.

As for me, I was taking it slow with graduate school. I was enrolled in online courses through Duke, and for now, that was perfect. I refused to rush my life and plan out every single detail. Malcolm still stayed with us some, and he and Dax were like tea and biscuits. They adored each other, and I sent up a prayer each day, thanking the heavens that put Dax and I together. My soulmate.

Fifteen minutes later, they still hadn’t spotted us, and I was tempted to turn around and make eye contact—but I knew Dax liked this.

He knew I was here somewhere, and part of the hunt was finding me. Anticipation.

Elizabeth, who’d been dying to visit the ladies’ room, finally gave in and left me to go pee.

I toyed with my shot glass, running my fingers around the rim.

If he didn’t find me by the time she got back, maybe I should go look . . .

Warm hands settled on my bare shoulders as a steely voice whispered in my ear. “Want to dance, love?”

I stiffened and didn’t turn around. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”

He didn’t go away, but stood so close I could smell him and feel the heat emanating from his skin.

His breath skated across my neck, a light finger tracing my flying black birds tattoo I’d gotten a few months back in honor of my dad. “I like your birds. Does it mean you’re just as wild and free as they are?”

I sighed and turned around to face this person.

I raked my eyes over him. “I’m so wild you wouldn’t be able to keep up. It takes a real man to satisfy me. Are you him?”

He leaned in closer, his massive shoulders forcing me to ease back in my stool. With a gentle brush, he flicked his finger over my pearls, letting them fall back to my cleavage. Goosebumps flew everywhere.

“Indeed, you are gorgeous,” he said softly, hot eyes taking in my strapless dress.

I smirked. “Don’t “indeed” me with your haughty English accent. It takes more than that to get me to dance.”

“Then how about a kiss?”

I blinked. “You don’t waste any time do you?”

Dark eyes narrowed.

I swallowed, getting nervous. Excited? God, I didn’t know.

My eyes went over his shoulder, looking at random faces.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, reaching across me to take my tequila bottle off the bar and look at it.

I smiled. “The hottest guy here—hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. I watched fascinated as he poured himself a shot—in my glass—and then drank it down.

What game was he playing?

“Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls came on, and I started, recognizing the song Dax and I had danced to. Memories of London a year ago flooded me.

“You like this song?” He stared at me, eyes searching my hidden face.

“Yes.”

A silence fell between us, thick and heavy. I got antsy.

So did he, judging by the way his chest rose up and down. A muscle flexed in his cheek, and I sensed he was barely keeping control—

He broke character. “Are you going to give in?” Dax