leona (pea) wrote in fableless, @ 2016-10-29 19:31:00 |
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Over the hand on cocked-hip, over the tight fitting dress she wore, over her sister’s borrowed jewelry. Over the red solocup with too much rum and not enough coke. Over her practiced smile and over her half lidded-eyes, Leona’s eyelashes fluttered at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome from across the crowded apartment. It had to look like an accident, or like she wasn’t doing it on purpose. The way she made her way across the room. The way she piped up with a soft, cute, “ excuse me,” as she brushed against him, letting her hips idly, accidentally-on-purposely bump into him as she walked past him, heading straight for the refreshment table. He had seen it before at countless parties; the overly bright smiles, the tight dresses that left nothing to the imagination, the come hither eyes powered by a heavy-handed pour of liquor. They were a siren’s call for attention, and, while he was no gentleman, it was a song he was always happy to answer. Obliging a lady’s needs was what a southern gentlemen did, and there was a pretty blond thing putting on quite the show for him. He couldn't claim he was a gentleman by any means, but he felt her not-so-apologetic brush of the hips as she walked by. He tracked her path to the table for a beat before following, long legs lazily eating up the distance between them. “You're not excused,” he growled, reaching around her to snag two beers by the necks. “But I said excuse me,” she protested in the mock-surprised way people often did when they wanted to be playful. She turned around to face him, red solo cup tilted lazily (tipsily), in her hand. She wasn’t the actress of her family, but did it really count as acting if you weren’t pretending, exactly? His lips curled up as he cornered his prey, happy to play before making a move in for the kill. Their close proximity allowed him a front row view to what she offered and he wasn't fooled by the coy rebuttal. He would have bet money that she knew the real reason he had followed her across the room. “I'm not a real forgiving person,” he drawled, “especially when someone as pretty as you bumps into me.” And that was all it took. She gave an abashed smile, her cheek tucking itself onto her shoulder as she looked up at him with big, innocent, doe-like eyes. “Pretty as me?” Her nose wrinkled, and she took a drink of her too-heavily poured drink, eyes staring up at him from over the brim. “Lucky for you, gorgeous, I can think of a few ways you can make it right.” It was textbook. Hook, line, and sinker, and she was caught with minimal effort of his part. A better person would have asked her name or if she was here alone to avoid stepping over any boundaries, but he was not that person. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow and gave her figure a frank appraisal, lingering on her curves for more time than was decent, before tipping the bottles in the direction of the patio. “What do you say?” And if Leona were a better person, she would have rolled her eyes, hooked arms with one of her many girlfriends, and laughed. But she wasn’t. She was, however, good at playing along. She offered him her hand, delicately, like the princess she was, either for him to take, or for him to offer his arm. “Is this one of those things where you tell me how I can make it okay, or show me?” “Whichever you want, but I've always heard that actions got this message across better than words, princess.” Lincoln took her hand as was expected, revelling in the electric shock that seemed to travel between them when they made contact. There was no denying that there was chemistry snapping between them. With a dangerous glint in his blue eyes, he lead her away from the safety net of her friends and out towards a place where they could have some privacy to act on that spark. |