A Heartbeat And A Stranger (cont.) || Closed Thread
He enjoys her hand upon his, caressing, a gentle touch. “Are You.” This he doesn’t pose as a question, instead it is a statement of negation, no answer expected. With his free hand, he pours them both more wine, and makes no move to move the hand she’s holding.
“I’ve often found that, the more someone is expecting something to happen, the more likely it is to happen.” He tells her, takin a sip from the glass. “But not to worry. What could a man like me possibly do to a girl like you?” There is mirth in his voice, as if including Her in on some sort of joke.
“And, many things require privacy. Or at least, the illusion of it. Wouldn’t you agree? I have a room just around the block.” He tugs at her hand now. “Shall we?”
@agostinis-child
Jesse allows him to pull her closer to him, a small smile dancing along the corners of her mouth. Her hands nimbly slip under his jacket, slowly tracing a trail from his trouser pockets to the lapels on his waistcoat, resting lightly against his chest, directly above his heart where it beats a constant rhythm against her palms. To the unsuspecting eye, she is but a dame, bold enough in the moment to take the initiative. But alas, she can’t let herself be led astray, even as her own heart skips a beat in response.
She is no fool.
She knows that to play with fire, one must take the necessary precautions. As much as she enjoys the feeling of his warm skin through the thin (expensive, but thin) fabric of his suit, her hands also search for weapons. Concealed knives, pistols, the works. She hopes her intentions aren’t too obvious. Even as she knows such hopes are in vain.
Her gaze lowers towards his lips drawn into an easy smirk; an invitation.
“My apologies, Michael. I assumed that by now it would be quite obvious what you do to me here. Now,” Her voice is a slow, melodic murmur in his ear. She blinks, slow, tantalizing. “Making a gal think such naughty things in public, Mr. Agostini. For shame.” She doesn’t rise to his invitation, knowing that to follow him into privacy is to surrender herself to danger. She values her life too much to outright consent to such an act.
But what an act it is. And if she decides, in that moment, that she’s willing to risk it all for these whispered promises he can’t keep?
Well. No one needs to know, now, do they?
She tilts her head to the side, voice dropping even lower, her next words only for him.
“I suppose the question is… what will you do to me?”
She’s bold. And he’s always like his women (and men) bold.
Her hands flit across his body and he allows himself a small smile. Lifts the corners of his lips upwards even as he lets his eyes drop to follow her movements up his body.
He can tell that she’s aiming to do more than just titilate, allows himself to relish in the feeling of her across the barrier of his suit. Knowing that she will find nothing except loose cash and a lighter in his pocket.
Shifting so that the general masses from the wider bar cannot get a good read on either of them, he speaks.
“I think, Ms. Moore, I can’t accept full responsibility for, ah, your thoughts” A pause. “Naughty as they may be.”
“And a gal” the word is drawn out, settling strangely in his accent “like you should know what happens in the private rooms of strangers they feel up in bars. Should they not?”
He lets go of the cup of wine now, settles in onto the table in exchange for a grasp of both of her hands, holding them infront of her chest just shy of too tight as he leans in closer.
“Let it never be said that an Agostini has broken their promise. Come now. Your work can wait.”
Oh.
How… like him to know exactly what to say to both send her into turmoil and calm her deepest fears. Seldom few weiled the power to do so. Truly, a dangerous man.
His hands bind her, cuffing her in a familiar fashion that almost begs for the ironic shift in power between the law-woman and the gangster. Figures. She would’ve laughed if not for the heavy gaze that stripped her bare, stared straight into her mind and tore through her defenses. He knew her, both inside and out. She shivers slightly as she realizes that he can see straight through her facade.
She has no choice but to play along.
His hands are calloused, yet warm around her wrists. She knows that he can feel her quickened pulse, the only give of the coil of adrenaline that sits low in her stomach.
“Mm. My work.” She draws out the word distastefully, an unwanted reminder of the grey area beneath the law she has tentatively followed this man into. She chooses to ignore work, for now. Let herself deal with the repercussions of her actions later.
She stretches languidly, almost cat-like, rolling out the kinks in her shoulders that had built up from the constant dashing between the kitchen and the impatient customers. “I suppose I can afford to finish early, just this once. Who am I to say no, when a gentleman such as yourself has insisted oh so charmingly on my company.”
Getting to her feet, she shrugs on her coat where she has draped it over the back of her chair. “I suppose there’s no time like the present, stranger. Lead the way.”
He doesn’t wait for her to follow, only pauses imperceptibly at the door to adjust his hat, watching, out of the corner of his eye to make sure that she is.
There’s some strange sense of pleasure in this, their little game of cat and mouse. But he can’t let hinself get careless. Careless got people killed. Careless had almost gotten him killed.
Out on the streets, he shakes his head to rid himself of such memories. Checking at each junction that she is there, he leads them away from the bar, staying away from the back alleys and streets where she might find cause to doubt his status as law abiding more than she already does. The thought makes him smile. And that in itself almost makes him like her more than he already does.
There aren’t many in this world who could bring him to smile. So often nonetheless.
“We’re here.”
This apartment is only one of his many in the city, kept separate from each other, but it is well furnished enough, comfortable enough that it would do for whatever he had in mind. Whether that was more of this play or, if she was intent on getting something out of him, work.
As she walks in behind him, he lets himself fit a hand onto her waist, gentle pressure against her side.
His lips against the shell of her ear another promise of things to come.
