Andre’s heart hammered, his pulse racing. Do it. Take my hand. As if he could silently will her to consent, he waited, standing like a statue before her. He wasn’t too proud to beg; God knew, he’d done it thousands of times before. He stared as emotions played out across her face. He knew damn well she’d never admit it, but she was scared. Tonight though, something was different, her stone-cold resistance seeming to have cracked the slighted bit. Let me in. A heavy ache tingled through his arm. A lifetime could pass, but he’d never back down. Not now. He wouldn’t lower his hand. This was his chance. Jennifer wanted him and he wanted her. Patience, he reminded himself as he cleared his throat. Was that a grin? His gaze flew to her mouth, noting the smug half grin.
Ah…she knows me too well.
Wordlessly, Jennifer slid from the barstool. Small and dainty, her fingers moved into his palm. Relief swept over him as he closed his hand around hers. Jennifer Jordan might be petite, but she was fierce. Gorgeous aqua-blue eyes flickered up at him, the desire in their gaze making his cock twitch. Andre leaned down, purposefully rubbing his stubbled chin against the delicate flesh beneath her ear. “I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”
“Talk is cheap, Big Boy,” Jennifer replied on a rushed breath before making an obvious attempt to shift the power exchange between them back to her. With her free hand planted on the curve of her hip, she raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to stand here all night or are you going to let your cock do the talking?”
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