Page 51 of Hell On Heels
Lottie, attuned to Razor’s every movement, noticed his brief distraction. “What’s up?” she asked, her voice low enough not to carry beyond him.
“Nothing that needs our attention right now,” Razor replied, his tone calm but firm. His hand rested lightly on her back, guiding her forward. “Just making sure everyone’s behaving tonight.”
Her gaze followed his for a moment, landing briefly on the alcove before she smirked. “Doesn’t look like everyone’s getting along. Want me to…?” She let the suggestion hang in the air, her mischievous grin teasing.
Razor chuckled softly. “Not tonight, darlin’. Let’s keep this about fun, yeah?”
“For now,” she quipped, letting him guide her toward the craps table.
Lottie and Razor became the center of attention at every table they graced. At the roulette wheel, Razor leaned close to Lottie, his voice low as he whispered, “Red or black?”
She smirked, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. “Red. Always red.”
When the wheel landed on red, the burst of applause and laughter was matched only by Razor’s mock bow. “Looks like I’ve got my lucky charm tonight.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Lottie teased, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Luck changes fast.”
As the night wore on, the pair moved seamlessly through the room, their chemistry unmistakable. At the craps table, Razor tossed the dice with practiced ease, his hand brushing Lottie’s as she passed him the next roll.
“You trust me with this one?” she asked, her tone playful but her eyes serious.
“Always,” Razor replied without hesitation, the weight of his words settling between them.
When the dice landed in their favor, the crowd erupted in cheers, but Razor and Lottie shared a quiet, triumphant smile—one that spoke of more than just a lucky roll.
Away from the tables, they stole a moment on the edge of the ballroom, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. Razor handed Lottie another glass of champagne, his expression softer than usual.
“You look good leaning over that table,” he said, his voice low.
Lottie raised her glass, her lips curving into a smile. “I’m glad you liked the view,” she said, her voice teasing.
Razor’s gaze lingered on her, his usual swagger giving way to something deeper. “Well, I plan on making sure this is a night you’ll never forget.”
The evening pressed on, full of laughter, high stakes, and shared moments that seemed to suspend time. In the grand spectacle of The Royal Harlots’ Casino Night, Razor and Lottie stood as a magnetic duo, unshakable, unpredictable, and undeniably captivating.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lottie’s gaze lingered on Razor’s lips before drifting back to his smoldering, smoky eyes. Those dark depths seemed to draw her in, and she realized too late that she was leaning closer.
Razor caught the flicker of raw desire on her face. He tugged her gently toward him, his hand gliding up her throat, thumb resting lightly on her pulse. When he felt it race beneath his touch, a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. His other hand slid into her hair, firm but unhurried as he guided her mouth down to meet his.
Razor could think of nothing else but the taste of her lips, the feel of her so close. Lottie shifted, crawling onto his lap, her movements slow and deliberate. His lips never left hers, their connection deepening with every passing moment. One hand remained firm on her throat, his thumb grazing the rapid beat of her pulse as if anchoring her to him.
Lottie couldn’t help but think of the strength in his hands, yet she savored the way his touch against her throat felt both commanding and tender. Razor’s thumb caressed the delicate rhythm of her pulse, sending shivers through her. A soft moanescaped her lips as her body ached with a longing only he could ignite. He made her hum, every nerve alive under his touch.
Tilting her head back, she felt his fingers slowly tug her blouse from her shoulders. For a brief moment, she hesitated. But then his voice, low and soothing, whispered, “Shh.” His lips brushed against her collarbone, then her shoulder, each kiss dissolving her doubts. His free hand slid to the small of her back, steadying her, holding her firmly against him as the world outside faded away.
Eventually, Razor guided her down beside him, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His lips found hers again, this time softer, slower, as if savoring every moment. His fingers traced a delicate path along her spine, their touch light and teasing, sending ripples of warmth through her.
Lottie relaxed into him, her breath mingling with his as the kiss deepened. Razor’s fingers never stilled, tracing her spine in slow, mesmerizing patterns that sent tingles spreading through her body. She leaned into his touch, her head resting lightly on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her.
The man had hands that were dangerous, strong, deliberate, and unrelenting. Yet, Lottie loved the way they held her, grounding her as if she might drift away without his touch. If only he’d get a move on. The slow, measured way he handled her was both thrilling and maddening.
She let him set the pace, knowing better than to push him. The one time she’d tried to rush things, his reaction had been swift and firm, leaving no room for argument. Razor wasn’t a man who liked being hurried; his intensity demanded patience, and Lottie wasn’t sure whether it drove her wild with frustration or desire.
His hand lingered at the small of her back, the weight of it both comforting and electrifying. When his lips returned to hers, the kiss was unhurried but deeply consuming, as if he intended to make her feel every second of it.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips, a teasing edge to his voice, as though he could sense her inner struggle. His thumb grazed her jawline, his dark eyes locking onto hers, daring her to challenge him.
