Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance Read Free

base and as out of my control as breathing.
    As well as being ring-less, she’s also drink-less, and so, as a waiter passes, I drop off my empty flute, and retrieve two fresh glasses.
    When my prey turns casually in my direction, I’m ready.
    I hold out a glass in her direction. “Champagne?”
    Her grey eyes spark when they catch mine, sending a jolt straight to my dick. I’d know that look anywhere—she likes what she sees, and thank god, because now that I’ve seen her close up, I’m absolutely certain that I have to have her. Have to possess her. Have to do unspeakably dirty things to every inch of her body.
    Tighten those reins, boy. Get ahold of yourself.
    I almost do, but then she narrows her stare and twists her lip. It’s the lip that does me in.
    “How do I know you didn’t put anything in it?” she asks, and JesusfuckingChrist, she’s got an English accent. I’m instantly hard.
    Okay, semi-hard. I’m not twelve. I have some control.
    “Well,” I consider, “I have two drinks. You choose which one, and I’ll drink the other.”
    She hesitates, suspicion vibrating from her body. Which is crazy—I’m a puppy.
    Except I’m not a puppy. Not right now, not around her, and her distrust increases my interest in her tenfold.
    “How about you drink from both of them? And then I’ll choose one.”
    Whichever she chooses, she’ll have her lips on the glass after mine. That’s so hot.
    Maybe I am only twelve.
    With her eyes still caught in mine, I take a swallow from one flute and then from the other. “Now choose.”
    “I’ll have this one,” she says, claiming the glass I drank more from. “Thank you.” Her skepticism relaxes slightly, but she’s still wary. As she should be.
    I’m surprised how much it arouses me.
    Tipping it forward, I clink my flute to hers. “You’ve been surrounded all night.”
    “And?” She’s polite enough not to sigh, but I can hear the weariness behind the single word.
    I should leave her alone.
    I can’t. “I didn’t like it.”
    She tilts her head, her expression both appalled and intrigued. “I don’t really think it matters what you like.”
    “True, true.” I give her the Chandler grin, the one that drops panties at the speed of light. “Thing is, I don’t think you liked it either.”
    She crosses her arms over herself and leans her weight on one gorgeous hip. “So, since I didn’t like a bunch of men trying to pick me up, you thought you’d come over and pick me up instead?”
    “When you put it that way, I sound like an asshole.”
    “You said it, not me.”
    She seems truly put off, and I’m momentarily thrown off my game. Mostly because this isn’t at all the game I usually play. Usually, I’m the target. There are too many already willing women to waste time working for one.
    Smile and say goodnight, Chandler.
    I take a swallow from my drink. The sweetness is so much more tolerable as I imagine licking it off her lips, and now that I’ve imagined it, there’s no going back.
    “How about I make it up to you?” I say, totally improvising. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll escort you out so no one bothers you. Once outside, you can totally tell me to take a hike.”
    She gives me the same expression she did before—the shocked and fascinated one—and this time I catch a hint of amusement as well. “You’re really full of yourself, thinking I need you to help me get out of here.”
    An unexpected filthy, crass comment about filling her instead flutters on the tip of my tongue, but I push it away. Play nice. “I wasn’t implying that at all. I’m just offering a service that could be mutually beneficial.”
    “How would that benefit you?”
    “I’d get to be the guy seen walking out with the most beautiful woman in the room.” Yes! Now my brain’s on the right track.
    She gives me an incredulous glare, but her icy demeanor has melted. “You American men are such charmers.” She takes a sip from her drink, and when she