Linebacker’s Second Chance(114)

We haven't exchanged a word, and I kind of like it this way. So freeing. A man I'll never see again, who I can be completely myself with. Sneaking a glance at him dancing, I get a whiff of his cologne mixed with his natural musk and I can't help but move as close as I can. There's a force field between us—an electric fog—where we get as close as possible but don't touch. The thought of touching makes me tingle down to my core, and I feel myself getting wet. That's it, I want this man. His eyes meet mine, and wordlessly we stare into each other's eyes. Now that the ice has broken I somehow feel like I could stare into his blue eyes forever. They're dark blue and fringed with dark lashes; the eyes of someone who has felt pain and been hurt but made it through to the other side. The eyes of someone who is looking at a person he desires completely. I want to fall into those eyes, and forget everything for the night.

I want to forget the fact that they're probably making me a partner not because of my stellar grades, but to improve their reputation for diversity and inclusion. I want to forget about the fact that my parents are too busy to care that I've finally reached my dream of working as a partner at an established law firm, even if it is one my father began. And I want to forget the sad fact that I haven't had sex in forever, because I've been trying so hard to live up to everyone else's standards that I haven't even thought about what I want.

But right now I know exactly what I want. This man, this delicious man whose every sensual move matches mine. Whose body is so perfect, it looks like it's been carved out of marble, but better—because marble doesn't have tats. No names, no nothing. Just one night of passion with a bad boy I have absolutely no business being with.

I dance closer to him, and for the first time, our hands touch, sending a burst of pure electricity through me. As a slow song starts, he takes my arm and drapes it over his shoulder, and my other hand disappears into his as he smiles. We sway back and forth, and all I can think of is tilting my head back so that he can touch his lips to mine and pull me closer to him. I don't want to make a scene in this bar—I can't be making out with strangers on a dance floor —so despite the fact that it takes all my strength to keep my head where it is, I console myself by drinking in the sight of his strong shoulders, his bulging pectoral muscles and his biceps. I breathe him in deeply and my body relaxes against his.

When the song ends, I look around for Sandra, and see she's at the table by herself.

I smile apologetically.

“Thanks for the dance, gorgeous,” he grins. His voice is low and sweet.

“Thanks for the drink,” I shoot back.

“Pleasure's mine.”

I disentangle myself from him feeling a little lightheaded, and return to the table.

“That was pretty hot,” Sandra says as I sit down. “I'm impressed!”

“What can I say, he's perfect.” I realize I’m a bit out of breath, and it’s not because of the exercise. What a man.

“He’s perfect for one night,” she corrects me. “Hold out for a lawyer when you want to get married. Athletes are no good.” She says adamantly.

“Too true,” I concede. “In fact my first case has to do with some famous athlete, I heard. So I'll get an earful every day of just why a person shouldn't get wrapped up with one of them.” I glance at him back at the bar. “Still where is a lawyer going to get a body like that?”

“Forget the body, look at his face!” She smiles. “Just the right amount of dangerous.”

“God, I know,” I say, leaning forward. “The tattoos alone!”

“So sexy,” she nods. “Just don't fall in love.”

“No worries there.” But the way it feels when he's close to me is something that I don't want to let go right away either.

Two more drinks appear at our table. “From the gentleman at the bar.” The waitress says matter-of-factly.

“I think he's trying to get us drunk,” I laugh. “Little does he know I'd go home with him right now.”

“You're so bad,” smiles Sandra. “I love it!” We clink glasses and take long sips.

* * *

Lover boy and I are in the alley. His incredible body is pressed up against mine, pushing me against the wall. He's got my arms above my head, and we're kissing ferociously. His lips and tongue are addictive and I can't get enough. He tastes like whiskey and cosmopolitans, which probably shouldn't taste this good, but I can’t get enough. His hand slithers up from my waist to catch my breast, and he circles the hard nub of my nipple with his thumb, making me moan and squirm.

I can feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, and I push against it, loving the feeling of his desire. There’s nothing but pure lust between us. He lets my hands go and I take the chance to run my hands down his body. He's just so big, and strong. I can feel the ridge of muscle that makes a v at his hips, pointing down to his succulent cock, and I have to pull him closer. Both of my hands take his ass and press him into me, and he moans a little.