eyes. Of course he'd found someone quick. Why did I expect from Rylan anything different than every other man I'd ever known? With his looks, his money, his charm… it shouldn't be a surprise that it had landed a replacement so easily.
I looked down at the tequila I'd intended to sip. After this shot, I could manage a beer or some wine, but I couldn't take any more hard liquor once this was gone. Fuck it. I tossed the shot back and pushed the glass back toward the bartender. I closed my eyes and let myself feel the burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat.
Still, I could hear her laughing. And then I heard her talk.
“Wow, look at that freak. How could they even let her in here? I mean, I get a couple extra piercings, but that hair? And check out what she's wearing.”
Time was suspended as her words floated around the noisy room. How many eyes had turned to me? A dozen? More?
“I am.” Rylan's tone was mild, but the two words held power. I sensed an undercurrent of something else.
I opened my eyes, braced myself, and turned to face the pair. Rylan's gaze was steady as it met mine.
“Rylan,” the blonde whined as she tugged on his arm. “I'm bored. Let's go to your room.”
He didn't even look at her as he spoke. “I told you before, we're not going to my room.”
“Why not?” The whine was more pronounced. “Because of her? Is that what you're into? Blue-haired Goth freaks?”
“Sammy,” Rylan snapped. “Shut the fuck up.”
My eyes widened as he walked toward me. He didn't take his eyes from me, not even when he had to shake her hand off of his arm. I waited. His gaze held me in place. He stopped before he touched me, but he was only a couple inches away, close enough that I could smell the fresh scent of soap mingled with… him.
“I know I'm probably being a glutton for punishment here, but would you please have a drink with me?”
I opened my mouth to say no, to repeat what I'd said before about this not being a good idea. Instead, I heard myself saying what I really wanted.
“Okay.”
Chapter 9
I wasn't entirely sure when I made the decision to go to his room. It hadn't been when he'd bought us both a beer or when we'd talked tech while we sipped the alcohol. I knew we'd skirted any too-personal discussions, sticking with the basics like why we'd chosen our respective colleges or what had gotten us into our fields. They'd been questions that we could've easily found interview answers for, but they'd also been open enough that we could share a bit more if we wanted. He'd been surprisingly easy to talk to and I'd found myself, for once, having to remind myself not to share too much. If I'd been the kind of person who made a habit of lying to myself, I might've blamed the alcohol. I couldn’t. I'd known I was still in control of myself.
That hadn't made me feel any better about wanting to share a bit more about the real reasons I'd gone into computer science. It was more than the standard ‘I'd always wanted to help design programs to protect people.’ I kept quiet.
As I walked with him to the elevator, I wondered when exactly a drink had turned into a not-entirely-unexpected invitation I'd accepted without allowing too much thought. That wasn't like me at all. Something about this man messed with my instincts and it unnerved me, but not enough to stop where I knew this was going. I'd set myself on this road and I intended to see it through. I needed to.
It had been a simple enough moment, nothing anyone around us would've noticed. There had been longer and longer pauses between conversation and we'd both finished our beer within a few seconds of the other. Then we'd looked at each other and I'd seen the familiar flash of desire in his eyes. I'd waited for some sort of smooth line, but it hadn't come.
He'd straightened, turned, and said a single word, “Coming?”
There was a quiet authority in his voice, the kind some powerful men have. It was the kind of voice that set men like