Larissa's POV
"That sounds perfect," I replied, deliberately avoiding the satisfied smirk spreading across Denise's features. "Let me handle our bill first though."
Carson's palm found the curve of my lower back, warm through the thin fabric of my top.
"I'll take care of it."
"Really, I can manage," I insisted, fumbling for my wallet.
"Larissa." The way he said my name carried quiet authority wrapped in silk. "I disrupted your girls' night. Allow me."
My fingers hesitated on my purse clasp. After Dora and Queenie's pointed remarks about his wealth, accepting felt complicated. "It's only a couple drinks."
"Precisely," he said, that familiar half-smile tugging at his mouth. "Hardly worth arguing over."
"Easy for you to say," I mumbled under my breath.
He shifted closer, his voice dropping to that low register that did dangerous things to my pulse. "Please. Let me handle this."
"Okay," I surrendered. "But next round is mine."
