Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence. Jennie LucasЧитать онлайн книгу.
on him angrily. “Seriously,” she hissed, bending closer over the bar. “What is your problem?”
Ares’s gaze bored into her. “You.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You’re the most desirable woman in the club. You fascinate me.”
She saw the dark hunger in his eyes. A flash of heat traveled through her body. She had little experience with men, but she would’ve had to be blind not to see that he wanted her.
Her gaze traced over him. The hard edge of his jaw, rough with five-o’clock shadow. The rough curl of his short dark hair. The rhythmic thrumming of his powerful fingers against the wood bar. She was aware of him in a way she didn’t want to be. Aware of everything, even the way her own knees felt suddenly weak beneath her.
He’d caused that just by looking at her. Just by telling her she was desirable. She’d thought she couldn’t fall for any rich man’s charm. That she was too smart to fall for it.
But was she? She felt strangely intoxicated, though she hadn’t had anything to drink. She felt like she was in a dream, though she was awake. This man, so handsome, arrogant and wealthy—so out of her league—had made just the barest effort and her whole body quivered, as if on his command.
What was wrong with her?
And, oh, sweet heaven, what would it do to her if he actually touched her?
What would it feel like if he lifted his hand from the bar and stroked her cheek? If his fingertips traced down her throat? If he cupped his hand gently around her breast?
Ruby’s nerve endings zapped with shock, her nipples tightening beneath her cotton bra. A sweet low ache coiled low and deep inside her. She put her hands on the bar to steady herself.
“What...” The words caught in her throat, and she swallowed, her voice suddenly shaky. “What do you want?”
His dark gaze fell to her lips. He smiled.
“Dance with me.”
Dance with him? This Greek god whom everyone else was losing their minds over? Ruby caught at the tendrils of her sanity. “No.”
“Why not?”
Don’t ever believe anything a rich man tells you. Her mother’s sad voice came back to her. They are liars, all of them. Liars and thieves.
Taking a deep breath, Ruby squared her shoulders and managed to say in a calm, strong voice, “I don’t dance.”
“You don’t dance? You don’t drink? You are old-fashioned.” His eyes slowly traced her body, making her cheeks hot in spite of herself. “I could teach you,” he murmured. “When is your break?”
She gripped the edge of the bar. “No, thanks. I just work here. It’s not what I do for fun.”
Ares tilted his head thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer. “What do you do for fun?”
“I...” Ruby tried to remember. It had been a long time since fun was on her agenda. Even before her mother got sick, before Ruby had taken three jobs to provide for their family, she’d been busy after school, taking care of Ivy and running the house, back when their mom was the one who’d worked three jobs. Ruby blinked. Fun?
Ares covered her hand with his own.
“Tell me what you’d do.” His voice was low, persuasive. “If you could do anything in the world tonight.”
At the touch of his powerful hand over hers, a tremble went through her, as violent as a hard flood of rain across hot, parched earth. A bead of sweat formed between her breasts.
How could he make her body react like this just by putting his hand on hers?
Pulling away, Ruby muttered unwillingly, “I’d be up on the mountain.”
“The mountain?”
“Some of the other ski instructors are running Renegade Night.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no night skiing at the resort, so before the season ends, just when the snow’s starting to melt, we run our own the old-fashioned way. Tonight’s the last full moon.”
“Is the moon so bright?”
“We also use torches.”
Ares’s eyes sharpened with interest. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Of course you haven’t. It’s locals only.”
“I see.” Finishing the beer, he put the glass down on the bar. “Good to know. Thanks for the drink.”
Tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, Ares left without another word.
Ruby stared after him, her mouth round with surprise. All she’d wanted him to do was leave her—and Ivy—alone. But now he had gone so abruptly, she felt oddly deflated.
“Wow.” Monty, the other bartender, snorted beside her. “That was cold. What did you say to make him practically turn and run?”
Ruby’s cheeks went hot. She quickly turned to restock the clean glasses. “He just wanted a beer.”
“Obviously.”
A waitress hurried up with another drink order. Dazed, Ruby poured three shots of tequila, and had just put them on the tray when the lights of the club suddenly turned full-on. She blinked, blinded by the bright light. There were groans of shock across the crowd as the music, too, was turned off.
Paul Vence, the wizened former musician who owned the Atlas Club, appeared on the dance floor in all his purple-leather-wearing glory.
“We’re closed for the night,” his voice boomed, surprisingly loud for a man so short. “Everyone out!”
The customers and the staff looked at each other in bewilderment.
“Out! Now!” Mr. Vence looked at the bartenders and staff. “Don’t worry. All of you will still get paid for the night. Tips included.”
The staff brightened considerably. “Shall we start cleaning up?” Lexie asked.
“It’s been handled. You can all just go.” His beady gaze focused on Ruby. “Especially you.”
And with an intake of breath, she knew.
Tell me what you’d do. If you could do anything in the world tonight.
Ruby felt a tingle at the back of her neck as customers slowly started to file out, muttering and moaning. With the lights on so brightly, the club looked plain, with bits of trash on the floor. The men suddenly appeared disheveled, their clothes wrinkled; the women had smudged mascara and tired eyes. The illusion was over. The magic of the nightclub—the music, the darkness, the flashing colors—was gone.
The waitstaff, on the other hand, were practically singing with joy in the changing room, chattering happily about how they’d spend their unexpected free night. As Ruby went back to retrieve her coat from her locker, she lingered, waiting until the others had left. She tried to tell herself she was crazy. Imagining things. There were plenty of other possible explanations.
But as she left the Atlas Club, he was waiting for her, as she knew he’d be.
The sidewalks had already grown quiet on the snowy street, as the last of the clubgoers and staff disappeared in the cold night to the nearby Settler, called the Sett for short, or other bars in the tiny mountain resort town.
Ares Kourakis was leaning against a streetlight, dressed in black, surrounded by snow. Butterflies filled her belly at seeing him.
“You did that, didn’t you?” she said accusingly.
Ares gave her a careless smile. “What if I did?”
She shook her head. “The club would have made