Kiss Me Now (A Billionaire Boss Romance) - Penny Wylder Page 0,4

many nights out to even seedier bars than this one…”

“Oi,” the bartender barks, before shaking his head and moving away to the far side of the bar.

We both stifle our laughter, trading amused glances. “Better watch your tongue,” I murmur.

Lark’s gaze shifts to my mouth and then back up again, so quick I wonder if I imagined it. But then… “Oh, I know. It’s always getting me into trouble.” His gaze drops again, and this time I know I’m not imagining things.

My cheeks flush, but luckily it’s dark in this bar. I take a sip of my whiskey, and watch Lark from the corner of my eye as he does the same.

“So where did you learn to change a tire?” Lark asks. “Or, for that matter, to swing a wrench like that.” He tilts his head, sizing me up. “Not sure I’ve ever seen anyone use that technique before.”

I grin. “What can I say? My dad wanted me to be prepared for any challenges the world could throw at a girl.”

“Well.” He raises his glass once more. “To fathers who prepare us properly, then.”

My grin falters. But I lift my glass anyway, tap it to his. What I don’t expect, though, is for him to notice my sudden shift in demeanor, the way I don’t quite meet his eye this time.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice dropping low.

“Just… my dad.” I shrug, blinking back a sudden and unexpected surge of tears. “He passed away a couple years ago.”

Lark lifts a hand to rest on my shoulder. Where his palm touches me, warmth spreads, tingling, all through my arm, up my shoulder and across my body. After a moment of hesitation, I reach up to thread my fingers through his, and squeeze just once, lightly.

He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He doesn’t offer empty platitudes. That’s what makes me ask.

“What about you?” I keep my eyes on the bar, but I can see him in the reflection of the bottles of liquor lined up there. The way his head drops a little, and his eyes darken.

“My youngest brother,” he says, after a long moment of quiet. “He was in a car accident last year. Drunk driver. They say he was killed on impact, never felt anything, but…”

“Shit, Lark.” I tighten my grip on his hand.

He shifts beside me, then picks up his whiskey again, takes a longer sip this time. “Losing someone that young… Really makes you appreciate the time you still have. Makes you want to live life right.” He glances at me again, and this time, I don’t look away. I let my eyes linger, the same way his are.

I lose track of how long we just sit, sizing one another up, before he bends a little closer. There’s barely a foot between us now. He’s close enough I catch his scent, woodsy and smoke-tinted from the whiskey, with a hint of something else underneath, something that reminds me of salt and the ocean.

“Cassidy,” he says, and my name on his lips sends a thrum of electricity through me, all the way to the tips of my fingers.

His hand slides along my body, from my shoulder down to the small of my back, where his fingers spread out, strong and so roughly calloused I can feel them even through my thin clubbing dress.

“Lark?” I manage, and my voice only quivers ever so slightly at the end. I manage to hold his gaze, though, keep my chin raised, and I don’t even let him see the way my breath catches or my stomach tightens at his touch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, still in that low, thrumming voice. The one that’s impossible to resist.

I tilt my head back, my face toward his, and when he dips down to feather his lips against mine, it feels like static shock, touching a doorknob after shuffling your feet across a carpet.

Then he sinks against me, his free hand drifting up to cup my cheek, pulling me off my stool and toward him. I stumble against him—the whiskey’s hitting harder than I expected after those other drinks earlier at the club. He chuckles, his mouth still pressed to mine, and then his lips part, taking mine with. His tongue traces the edges of my lips, and I arch my back, both my arms sliding up to wrap around his neck.

I’m not sure how we settle our tab. I have a vague memory of Lark tapping on the bar, sliding his wallet out