"So why did you come?" she pressed, crossing her arms.
"I would like to see where this goes," Winn said, surprising himself with his honesty. "Truly, I don’t know why I am here." He exhaled, shoulders loosening. "I promised my mother I would make an effort to date, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a date that didn’t end up being just about instant sexual gratification."
Sharona tilted her head, studying him. "Maybe you just haven’t met your match," she said.
"You think you are my match," Winn countered, lips quirking in faint amusement. He admired her confidence.
"I know," she replied without missing a beat.
"What do you assume I look for in a match?" Winn asked.
"You like women who tickle your intelligence," she said smoothly, circling him. "Women who hold you by the jugular, women who have what it takes to keep you wanting them."
Winn nodded indeed, conceding the point. She had him. And maybe part of him wanted to believe it too, if only to quiet the madness of his current obsession.
"I’m going to head to bed now," Sharona announced suddenly, breaking the tension.
"I’m sorry I didn’t make it earlier," Winn said, rising to his feet. Maybe he should have been here, instead of sitting in a dark club watching a woman he could never have, torturing himself with fantasies that had no end. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe Sharona was the kind of woman he could learn to want. "I will head out."
"Or you could stay." Sharona’s voice dropped low, husky with intent as she set both glasses on the bar table. Before Winn could respond, she stepped close, pressing her body into his. She kissed him.
He let her. Hell, he needed this.
Her tongue slid against his, teeth grazing his bottom lip as she pushed him back toward the wall. His hands gripped her hips through the thin fabric of her nightdress, fingers digging in until she moaned into his mouth.
Winn growled and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist without missing a beat. The nightdress rode up instantly, satin sliding over her thighs as his palms cupped her ass. She was already wet, he could feel the heat of it through the lace of her panties pressed against the hardness straining his zipper.
"Bedroom," she whispered against his mouth.
"Here." He spun and set her on the bar counter, bottles clinking behind her. The glass was cool against the back of her thighs as he shoved her panties aside and freed himself in one desperate motion.
Sharona gasped, gripping the edge of the counter as Winn pushed into her in one hard, unrelenting thrust.
"Fuck—" he hissed, jaw clenching as her body clenched around him.
She threw her head back, a sharp moan breaking free as his hips drove into hers, each movement brutal and precise. The counter rattled with every thrust, her nails dragging across his shoulders.
He pounded into her, each slam of his hips against hers nothing but pure release.
Sharona’s heels dug into his back, urging him deeper, harder. "Yes—yes—don’t stop."
Sweat slicked their bodies, the air filled with the wet slap of flesh against flesh. Winn gritted his teeth.
Her body tightened suddenly, shuddering around him as she cried out his name, nails scoring his skin. Winn kept going, riding her orgasm, chasing his own.
Seconds later, he buried himself deep, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as release ripped through him.
He stayed there, breathing hard, both of them slick with sweat and satisfaction. Then, just as abruptly, he pulled out, tucking himself back into his pants.
Sharona leaned back on her elbows, smirking despite her heavy breathing. "Glad you came after all."
This was exactly what he needed—nothing more.
Tom waited at the same bar with Raphael, the two men tucked into their usual booth at the far corner where the shadows gave them a sense of anonymity. Both had glasses of whiskey before them, barely touched. Tom Kane looked restless, tapping his ring against the glass with impatience.
"Shouldn’t you be at dinner with your family? Today is Sunday." Raphael asked mildly, swirling his whiskey as if the amber liquid had secrets. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fiɾe·net
Tom’s lip curled, his disdain barely restrained. "With an overbearing wife, a pitiful daughter, and an annoying son? No thank you." He spat the words with venom. "I’d rather be here for this myself." He may be good at hiding how little affection he had for the people who bore his name, but when he had the opportunity to be away from them, he took it. Raphael gave him a look, but didn’t press.
Raphael spotted Sharona before Tom did, his sharp eyes catching the sway of her hips as she entered the bar. Sharona was the type of woman who made an entrance even in a room where nobody knew her name. The black sheath dress she wore clung to her body in a way that announced elegance. Raphael smiled. "She is here."
He rose at once to greet her, brushing his lips against each of her cheeks. "Always a vision, Sharona."
"Gentlemen," she purred, sliding into the booth. She crossed her legs, the slit in her dress riding high. "Sorry I kept you waiting. A client insisted on dragging me through the details of her tragic marriage. She wants it dissolved without the noose of a prenup around her neck. How are you both doing?"
Tom leaned forward. "I don’t think you should still be up to your old tricks. Our plan will be ruined if someone finds out who you are." He shot her a pointed glare.
"Relax, Tom. A girl’s got to eat in the meantime. Besides, I hardly think your boy is considering marriage at all. Which means...the odds of your plan working are not exactly in your favor."
Winn Kane was no fool and no puppet, and Sharona wasn’t sure she could bend him the way Tom so confidently assumed. She thrived on seduction, yes, but Winn wasn’t like other men.