Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(3)

Any bloke who seems not to think about sex all day and night is a right liar. Or he’s attempting to train his mind for sainthood, which is idiotic.

Trust me on this.

When the blond chick turns to grab her drink, sending a fluttery-eyed glance my direction, the seemingly nice guy ogles her arse, as he should, and his aura goes thick as red mud. When she turns to him again, he quickly retrains his face into the quirky smile.

I know all the tricks. Don’t bother with the polite, shy bit. It’s not what most birds go for—though I have had to put on the witty, good-guy act to win over a few. I’m willing to play whatever role will put them in their comfort zone—their ease leads to their nakedness. And nakedness is my comfort zone. It is what I seek.

Something soft brushes against my arm, and I look down to see the brunette from the other room sliding purposely against me as she edges through the crowd toward the drink counter. Our eyes meet and I give her a smile. She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances down before looking back up at me.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m just . . .” She points to the drinks on the other side of me.

“May I get you something?” I ask.

She stares for a moment, as if my voice and accent were unexpected. Her chest is pressed against my upper abs, and the crowd jostles us together. A cloud of red surrounds her, and I open my senses to let in the peachy scent of her pheromones.

Right. That’ll do. I’m ready to shag her. Thankfully I’m a pro at this next bit. Getting someone into bed is an art. A dance. It’s crucial not to misread her.

Without asking, I whisk her cup from her hand and turn to make a fresh drink. In moments I hand her a full glass, ice clinking.

“I hope rum and Coke is all right?” I already know it is because I smelled the remnants of her drink with my supernatural senses.

Her eyes go wide. “That’s what I was drinking!” Her smile is huge, as if this is a sign that I am her Mr. Right.

“Brilliant. What’s your name, then?”

“Brittany. And you’re Kayden, right?”

I smile. Nobody can seem to spell or pronounce my name. I’m used to this. “Close, luv. It’s Kaidan.”

“Oh, sorry.” She tries my name out the right way, Ky-den.

“Sounds lovely when you say it.” Taking her by the elbow, I gently lead her away from the crowded kitchen. “Were you at the show?” She was. I saw her.

“Yes. Ohmigawd, it was so good. You guys rock.”

“Ah, thanks. Mind if we go out back? It’s hard to hear you.” I’m already opening the back door and she gladly exits. Her aura pushes outward when I touch her waist and lead her away from the smokers outside. We find a wooden bench swing to sit on. It’s dark out, and the light from the back porch is now dim.

We glide back and forth. Her aura is jittery and I need to relax her.

“Are you in school?” I ask, though I don’t care.

“Yeah. It’s my first year at Georgia Tech. You?”

I shake my head. “No college for me.” I’m going to be what they call a senior in high school, but she doesn’t need to know that bit.

“Not to be rude, but you’re nicer than I thought you’d be,” she says. “Most good-looking guys are . . .”

“Pricks?” I supply.

She nods and takes another drink. Her aura is a nervous gray as she asks, “Do you . . . um . . . have a girlfriend?”

Bingo.

“No,” I say sadly. “I’m not the settling-down type.”

This shouldn’t make her happy, but it does. I see it in the way she bites her lip against a smile. Her aura is excited. “I think everyone’s the settling-down type eventually. You just have to find the right person.”

Gotta love delusional romantics.

“I’ll never settle down, Brittany.” It’s the truth, but I say it like an unfortunate mantra.

“You never know,” she whispers, angling toward me.

She wants to be the one who settles me. They all do. I’ve been honest with her, just as I am with all of them. I can’t help it if she wants to fool herself.

I turn my head, catching a glint of the night’s stars in her eyes.

“What do you want from life, Kaidan?” she asks.

I want to stay alive.

I take the drink from her hand and set it down. “All I want right now, Brittany, is you.”

Today is my birthday, and I’m prepared to use that fact as a wild card, but it’s not necessary. She is mush. Her aura is on spin cycle. I slide one hand around her waist and pull her hip to mine. I ignore her guardian angel, who has gone frantic above her. She lets out a whimpering breath and I kiss her. She molds to me, ripe to my touch. Things escalate more quickly than I expected—I thought I’d have to be the initiator, but her hands are all over me. She is clearly ignoring her guardian angel’s whispers to run, run, as fast as she can. Most people aren’t in tune with their angels, and that works to my advantage. Her hands are everywhere.

“God, Brittany, I need you.”

Her chest heaves as she takes in air. “Where can we go?”

Hell yes.

I look up to the house and focus my hearing on the upstairs bedrooms. All occupied. Shite. Then I catch a conversation in the dining room. . . .