Dante nodded. “Right before she left Colorado. Asshole. Who breaks up with a woman at the holidays?”
Jason’s fists clenched in reaction. “Did he dump her?”
Dante shrugged. “She didn’t say much. I don’t think she wants to talk about it. I’m just glad he’s finally out of her life.”
Dante’s attention was taken by his brothers, and Jason turned his back on them. His eyes sought and fought Hope as she stood alone by the bar and sipped a glass of champagne.
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
His chest ached, which wasn’t unusual when he saw Hope. It had been that way for him since the day he’d seen her at her high school graduation.
I should have stolen her away then.
Every event where he’d seen her after that day had been fucking torture, and this party was no different. He’d finally had to turn around just to keep himself from going to her, stripping her naked and making her his right here and now.
Hope Sinclair was his private obsession, a woman who could change him from a rational thinker to a possessive, compulsive maniac with just one look. She wasn’t trying to be provocative. She didn’t need to. Hope was provocation personified to him, just by standing where he could see her.
And for the first time since he’d seen her at her high school graduation, she was available.
Fuck. That made her totally irresistible.
Jason’s heart squeezed as he watched her: smiling, yet solitary, just like him. He wondered whether she felt as alone, restless, and edgy as he felt right now.
His eyes roamed over her, from her swept-up auburn hair, to her generously curved body, and finally to those sexy stiletto heels that made him have delusions of fucking her as those heels dug into his ass, her calling out his name as she tipped over the edge of a powerful climax.
Shit! I can’t do this anymore.
His fully erect dick jerked with impatience and pushed powerfully at the zipper of his tuxedo pants. Luckily, he wore a jacket so the whole room couldn’t see his secret sexual fixation on a woman who should be taboo for him.
She’s Grady’s little sister.
Jason had been friends with the Sinclairs for as long as he could remember; he’d grown up close to them in a very exclusive neighborhood in Boston. Grady and Dante were very good friends of his, but that alone hadn’t kept his dick in his pants when it came to Hope, although it had been a deterrent. The biggest obstacle had always been her boyfriend. Jason didn’t share, and if he had Hope Sinclair, he’d never be able to tolerate thoughts of another man in her head while he was fucking her. Besides, he knew Hope well enough to know that she wasn’t going to screw him while she was still involved with another guy. Jason had suffered in silence, his deep-seated need for her kept in check—just barely—every time they met.
She’s available. No more boyfriend.
He almost literally felt the stopper on his desire pop free, leaving his body burning to bury himself inside Hope and claim her like a rabid caveman. His eyes narrowed as he watched her intently. It was beyond time for him to make his move.
Mine.
Determinedly, he set his drink on a table and made his way over to Hope, single-mindedly driven to claim her before he completely lost his mind.
“Happy New Year, Hope.” The velvety, rich baritone was so close that Hope could feel the hair at her temple flutter as heated breath hit her cheek. Her body shuddered with an involuntary response as large, warm hands landed on her shoulders firmly and turned her around to face the voice.
Yes, she’d watched Jason all evening, her eyes glued to his tall, muscular body, immaculately dressed in a black tuxedo that he wore as casually as he would a pair of jeans. But being this close to him was unnerving for her. Jason Sutherland was more than comfortable in his own skin, no matter what he wore. It was something that had always attracted her to him at any age. However, up close and personal, and with Hope way beyond the age of hero-worship, he made her pretty damn edgy.
He was too perceptive, too discerning, and his penetrating azure eyes always seemed to be able to look clear down to her soul. It was uncomfortable for her and made her uneasy around him for most of her adult life.
“Happy New Year, Jason,” she murmured and smiled at him politely.
Oh God, he smells good.
Hope felt the heat pulsating between her thighs just from inhaling his musky, woodsy scent, the essence of male pheromones that could make a woman drunk just from breathing him in. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and let herself drown in his fuck-me-now, deep voice and masculine smell.
She tilted her head back, and she was captivated by his liquid blue eyes. The color reminded her of the sky on a perfect summer day. At a fairly average height of five foot five, and adding on another three inches for the torturous heels she wore, Jason still towered over her and made her feel overwhelmed when he was this close to her. Defensively, she took a step back; his hands fell off her shoulders.