Free Flame by Skylar Cross Page A

side door.
    I think
I’ll just lose myself in her eyes a little more.

Chapter
2

 
 
    Sofia

 
    Shit, what’s going on? Did I
blow this or not? He must have figured out I’m a cop by now.
    Oddly,
I don’t seem to care. I’m lost in the netherworld of those amazing eyes. They’re
like vast universes to explore.
    Not to
mention they keep staring at me like they’re trying to see into my soul. If he keeps
that up, I’m in trouble.
    Criminal, Sofia! He’s a criminal! Stop it!
    “So what
brings you to Heat tonight?” he says.
    His voice
is deep, but with a soft and velvety edge. Like it bypasses his throat completely
and comes out of his massive chest.
    “Wanted
to check it out. I’ve heard so much about it.”
    “Where?”
    I
take a sip of my mojito . “Some website. MiamiImproper.com , I think.”
    He
snorts again. “You don’t strike me as the type of girl to read MiamiImproper.com . Which is now defunct anyway.
You must have done a Google search.”
    Damn,
this guy is smarter than I thought. And taller. And bigger. His shoulders
stretch the fabric of the shiny shirt. As he turns, I see his chest muscles
grow and shrink.
    Zing!
    Damn.
My clit is throbbing.
    This
can’t be happening to me.
    Time
to take charge. I’ve got to throw his challenge back at him.
    “So
what are you saying? That I’m not a party-girly-girl? ”
    “You’re
not,” he says.
    “And
what leads you to this conclusion, Mr. Bigshot Billionaire?”
    His
eyes widen and he shifts in his seat, tugging on his pants.
    “Because,
Ms. Badass,” he says, “a party-girly-girl would never refer to herself as a party-girly-girl .
She would also never come here alone. Not to mention kick a guy’s ass like that.
You box?”
    Oooh , I
like the way he calls me Ms. Badass. Yep, panties getting soaked now.
    Control yourself, Sofia! You’re a goddamned professional!
    I take
a deep breath, uncrossing and re-crossing my legs.
    “Used
to,” I say.
    “Me too.”
    “No you
didn’t.”
    “Yeah,
got into it in college. Trained with a street hoodlum in East Cambridge while I
was at MIT. Went semi-pro for a couple of years under the name Johnny Eszterhaus .”
    I get
a mental picture of him in the ring pounding on another guy. Shoulder muscles flexing
and sweating under that glorious tattoo.
    That’s
it, I’m melting. Don’t know how else to describe it. I think if he touched me, I
would dissolve into jelly.
    Steady, Sofia, steady!
    Fuck
it. Whatever. I can’t seem to fight it. Go ahead, baby. Flow.
    I take
a huge gulp of my drink.
    Dios mio , that’s
strong.
    “Why
the fake name?” I say.
    “Family
shit. My dad thought I was being an idiot. He wanted me to go to Wharton. I
wanted to knock out Floyd Mayweather .”
    “So what
happened?”
    “I
never knocked out Floyd Mayweather .”
    “Shocking.”
    He looks
down. “And, my dad died.”
    “Oh,
sorry.”
    “I’m
not. He was the world’s biggest prick. I had to become the face of his business.”
    “Which
is now your business.”
    “Ha,
that’s a laugh. I’m the face of Stark Worldwide for the press. Just a puppet.
It’s controlled by my dad’s bestie , Jasper van der Voort , and the Board.” He
pauses and frowns while folding his arms. “Why am I telling you all this,
Sofia? It is Sofia, right?”
    “Yes,
it’s Sofia.”
    “Are
you sure it’s Sofia?”
    “Yes,”
I say.
    Although
it came out as yesh .
    Oh
God, the alcohol is hitting me.
    “What
do you do, Sofia?”
    His eyes
narrow as he purses his lips. I imagine those lips forcefully pressing against mine,
his tongue probing my mouth without mercy, his stubble grazing my face.
    “I’m
a student,” I say. I had an entire spiel planned for this.
    “Student,”
he repeats.
    Fuck,
he’s definitely onto me. He’s not buying that. Alarm bells go off.
    “Yes,
I’m studying criminal forensics at FIU.”
    He takes
a sip of his drink and leans forward. “You are no student.”
    “Excuse
me?”
    “You’re
a