Re: VIP Area
Despite the fact that she was just prolonging her own embarrassment, Luke had to give the fruity-drink woman points for persistence. Wren would have sent most women slinking off by now, tail between their legs, but not this one, and while Luke couldn't help laughing at the situation he didn't actually tell her to leave. No, this--watching Wren take control--was too much fun, and truth be told he kind of liked it even if the other woman didn't appear to share his sentiments. Honestly, he wasn't wealthy or interesting enough to be worth the effort, and he wondered how long it would take her to realize that.
Drunk as he was, he still noticed the way she bit her lip, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight before she covered it up. He ignored the catcalls, waved away the offers from men who would have loved to be the one to get her out of that dress. "You know what your problem is?" She was playing to their audience, so he did the same, though it was clear that they both received the most response from the opposite sex. "You have no faith," he finished dramatically, shaking his head as though it was such a shame that she didn't. "I think I know someone who can. Well, I mean, maybe. I'd have to test it out." His tone was flippant, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hinted at something more; mischief, with a dash of promise. He watched her laugh, watched the way the light shone off her skin, and in that moment there was nothing sweeter than the sound of her laughter. French had never been his strong suit, but he knew she was calling him her something, and he liked the possessiveness it implied.
"Dreadfully boring," he slurred in agreement. "Totally one-dimensional. There's no excitement, no depth. Princes are lame. You don't want one." His words became progressively more difficult to understand, and her reaction to his touch certainly didn't help him become more coherent. It didn't matter that they were causing a scene, and he wasn't thinking about anyone or anything else, not beyond the two of them, there and now. He propped his chin up on one hand, elbow on his knee, as she slipped of her stilettos, grinning when she dangled them in front of him. "Even without the heels, I can still--" His sentence was cut off when she shoved him back, and he was too drunk to keep his balance, which meant that he ended up sitting down, hard, on the flat surface. Scattered laughter joined the catcalls, and fruity-drink woman was practically seething, but he didn't care about any of it.
Luke tipped his head back to look up at her, a drunken smile on his lips as his fingers found her bare calves and slid upward. "I was supposed to sweep you off your feet," he said accusingly.