He caught her hand and raised her fingers to his lips, kissing lightly. “Me, neither,” he lied. That smile said she was lying, too. “So you wanna hang out in a strip club all night?”
“It’s Ling’s birthday,” she said. “Her choice.”
Vandal glanced across at Ling. She was now deep in conversation with one of the dancers, and if Vandal guessed correctly, it was a conversation that was going to end with a private lap-dance. The dancer had a gleam in her eye that was impossible to mistake, and, frankly, in the black corset and mini-skirt she was wearing, Ling looked almost irresistible.
“Looks like she’s about to have herself a very happy birthday,” he said. “I don’t think she needs you for it.”
Tara pursed her lips, considering, and Vandal couldn’t resist snatching a kiss. She tasted of beer and it was distractingly sexy. When she didn’t resist, he deepened the kiss, nipping at her lower lip. She groaned, tightening her arm around him, her nails sinking into his shoulder. Her breasts pressed against his chest, a deliberate, teasing action that felt better than any booze or drug ever could. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to sink his cock in her and push away the violence of the night. He wanted to claim her.
He broke the kiss, but stayed close, gazing into her hazel eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
She bit her lip and nodded, that enticing smile back. Neither of them wasted any time saying goodbye to their friends.