Ignite (The Disciples #4) - Cassandra Robbins Page 0,29

glasses.

“Mitch… Axel, are you okay?”

“Define okay,” he fires right back.

God, he’s a dick. It bugs me, all these feelings I’m having for this man. He’s so freaking beautiful that he lulls you into this false sense of security, making you think he might be good and have a heart. Instead, he acts like a sarcastic shit.

Trying not to lose my temper, I breathe deeply. “Look, this is all your fault. I was doing my job. You know, trying to make some mon—”

“I asked you for your age. You skirt around all personal questions. It’s boring.” He turns toward me.

Jesus.

The look in his eyes makes me falter, but I can’t. If he thinks he’s gotten the best of me, then I’ll be out the door.

“Wait a minute. You dragged me off the stage. I demand that you compensate me. I could have made… a thousand dollars tonight.”

I kind of faltered on the last part, but the first part sounded strong. Axel is in the wrong, not me. I shouldn’t even feel bad about stabbing his shin with my heel. Who does what he did? He’s not a caveman. He can’t drag me offstage like that.

“It’s my place. I can do whatever I want.”

My eyes jerk to his, and for one horrifying moment I wonder if I said my thoughts out loud. I didn’t, right?

Jeez, in a way maybe it would be better if I had rather than Axel being able to read my mind. I’m playing with fire and that damn smirk of his might be my downfall. He looks down at the glasses and over at me. He motions for me to follow.

“Sit,” he demands, placing the glasses on the desk and cracking the seal on the bottle.

He looks at me and shakes his head. “Fine, we can stand.” Before I can say no, there’s a glass with brown liquor in it in my hand.

“I don’t drink, and—”

“Shh.” His voice is so gravelly and rather addictive that I gaze up at him. He’s tall, so

tall and hot, but it’s more than that with him. This guy makes me feel. He’s so close that our fingers almost touch.

“I need… to…” Staring at his mouth, I wonder what his lips would feel like.

“Drink, baby.” He raises his glass and like a lunatic, all I can do is stare. His hands are large and tan, covered with tattoos. Slowly he brings the glass to his lips and shoots it all.

I need to move away. Instead, I think I’ve leaned in closer. I can smell him. Smell the spicy liquor on his warm breath, his clean freshness, which I suspect might be the way he always smells.

“I can’t breathe—”

His eyes are like blue fire as he watches me. He’s silent, but his eyes are not. They caress my face, lingering on my lips almost as if they want to kiss me also.

“Antoinette.” His voice is possessive and deep.

“Yeah?” Mine sounds breathy, but in my defense I can barely breathe. He’s too close. I’m too close…

“I’m not someone you should look at like that. Unless you’re ready for me to rip those strings off your body and fuck you on the desk,” he grunts as his fingers in one quick jerk free my breasts.

Before I can stop him, he’s lifted me. “Wrap your legs around me, Cookie.”

His mouth… I was wondering how it would feel… is kissing me. His lips are soft, but he’s not. The glass I was holding drops to the ground. If it breaks, I can’t hear it.

“Open your mouth,” he demands, and I obey, willing. I want this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.

He sits me on the edge of the desk. Then his hand is on my neck, holding me so that he can lower his head and change me forever.

Ruin me.

I don’t think I can breathe as he kisses me so deep, so demanding that my one hand reaches for his forearm to steady me. He shoves his tongue inside my mouth, and I moan. There are kisses and then there are life-altering moments. This kiss feels as though it will change my life forever.

I wrap my other hand around the side of the desk, allowing me to lean forward and arch upward. My tongue finds his as we both suck, twist, and suck some more.

His hand tightens on my neck directing me even closer as he fucks my mouth with his tongue. His rough stubble makes my chin ache, and I moan. The pain feels like