Anton would have missed the fleeting, playful pout if he hadn't been stealing quick glances over the glowing phone. The playful expression emanated sex appeal. A just as brief curl of his lip betrayed his satisfaction with the continuity of their flirting.
"I'm glad you like it." He replied to her compliment without bothering to hide that he felt flattered by her approval. Her easy confidence and (what seemed to him) evident sophistication meant her opinion carried weight. He was pleased that she stored her phone away so be choose to follow her lead. He locked the iPhone and stowed it back in his front pocket before uncrossing his legs and closing the distance between them.
He placed his hands on the bar splaying his fingers out and leaning into them heavily. The weight made the tendons and small bones of his hands protrude beneath the tanned and mildly weathered skin of his hands and exposed forearms. They were close enough that he could see the individual lashes that framed her golden eyes. "Truthfully, I'm rarely compelled to bother with acts of heroism." There was a mischievous look in his eyes when he said, "Besides we don't get too many women like you here, especially not on week nights." He purposefully left it vague as to what type of woman he thought she was.
"That being said, aside from the expert mixology, why did you choose this place? You'd probably fit in with the scene more at the martini bar up the street." He purposefully leaned forward just a little more to eye what he could see of her sleek pencil skirt from behind the bar. He drew his gaze back up her torso (lingering on her breasts for no more than a heartbeat) to her face. He made a point of looking at her that way as if to critique her corporate getup. Although he rather liked the way the fabric of her skirt stretched across her thighs. He held her gaze silently for a moment, before breaking it to push his glasses up. "Not that I want you to leave of course." He added nonchalantly.
"I'm glad you like it." He replied to her compliment without bothering to hide that he felt flattered by her approval. Her easy confidence and (what seemed to him) evident sophistication meant her opinion carried weight. He was pleased that she stored her phone away so be choose to follow her lead. He locked the iPhone and stowed it back in his front pocket before uncrossing his legs and closing the distance between them.
He placed his hands on the bar splaying his fingers out and leaning into them heavily. The weight made the tendons and small bones of his hands protrude beneath the tanned and mildly weathered skin of his hands and exposed forearms. They were close enough that he could see the individual lashes that framed her golden eyes. "Truthfully, I'm rarely compelled to bother with acts of heroism." There was a mischievous look in his eyes when he said, "Besides we don't get too many women like you here, especially not on week nights." He purposefully left it vague as to what type of woman he thought she was.
"That being said, aside from the expert mixology, why did you choose this place? You'd probably fit in with the scene more at the martini bar up the street." He purposefully leaned forward just a little more to eye what he could see of her sleek pencil skirt from behind the bar. He drew his gaze back up her torso (lingering on her breasts for no more than a heartbeat) to her face. He made a point of looking at her that way as if to critique her corporate getup. Although he rather liked the way the fabric of her skirt stretched across her thighs. He held her gaze silently for a moment, before breaking it to push his glasses up. "Not that I want you to leave of course." He added nonchalantly.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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