Wow.
Talk about stunning.
Barely a few inches away from me stood the man I had watched earlier. As he stepped nearer and his hands brushed mine, my skin began to tingle. He was so close I could feel his hot breath on my lips and the heat emanating from his delicious body and light bronze skin. His shoulders were broad and his arms looked like they could carry a woman where she belonged—in his bed—but the most stunning feature about him were his dark green eyes that reminded me of haunted woods covered in morning dew, and lush meadows.
Eyes so beautiful, they had to be made of sin.
Was it the varied shades of green that gave the impression? Or his irises that looked like cracked stones on a beach? People always said the color green was calming, but it wasn’t calming at all. It was like a wild garden inviting you to run in only to trap you and never let you go.
I had never met someone with eyes like that—the kind of eyes that made me want to do crazy things such as dress like a stripper and give him a lap dance. There was a hunger in them—a strong power to devour my soul and my heart. Just prying myself away from them was hard, as if the hypnotic pull was too strong to resist. Or maybe I didn’t want to. If looks could have undressed, I would have been stripped bare, naked and spread on top of a blanket, wearing nothing but a smile on my lips, and pleading with him to make me his.
“I’d love to have a drink with you, Miss, uh…” His eyes caught the credit card in my hand, and he held it up to read my name slowly, as if he were examining a rare bottle of wine he was about to savor. “Brooke. Miss Brooke Stewart.”
My heart skipped a beat at the way he spoke my name. I tilted my head to one side, narrowing my eyes.
“And you are?” I asked in mock disinterest and the most serious tone I could muster.
Gorgeous, boyish dimples formed in his manly cheeks as he smiled and sat down on the bar stool next to me. He was uninvited, and yet he couldn’t have been more welcome. As if sensing my unraveling, his lips slowly parted, revealing two strings of white, perfect teeth I would have loved to feel on my skin.
He held out his hand. “No need to know it,” he said. “After tomorrow morning, I’ll only be a memory for you anyway.”
Wow. Talk about blunt.
I smiled sweetly and inclined my head to regard him. “In which case, forget I ever mentioned mine.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to,” he whispered. “After tomorrow, you might just be the only thing I’ll be able to think about, Brooke.”
My name rolled off his tongue in a sexy, rumbling way. Ever so slowly, his fingers clasped around mine, and his head dipped low again, so close I could feel his breath on my ear.
“I couldn’t help but notice your sexy legs, Miss Stewart. Surely those high heels must be painful. How about I show you my room, so you can take them off? We’ll order drinks, get to know each other, and do something about that pain of yours.”
He was right; I was in pain, but it wasn’t coming from my shoes. My whole body ached with a yearning for him to touch me, begging to know whether the sexual tension between us would actually translate into mind-blowing sex.
As though sensing my thoughts, he pulled back, but he didn’t let go of my hand. His eyes kept probing mine with an intensity that made me swallow hard, and blood rushed in my ears as I watched his lips curve into a lazy, lopsided smile that instantly melted my panties, metaphorically speaking. Just looking at him, I felt drugged, as if the chemical reactions in my brain were some complex cocktail of sex-fueled hormones, waiting to diffuse.
He had that effect on me, yes, but I harbored no intention of letting him know it. If he wanted me, he would have to do more than shoot me that arrogant, self-assured smile my way. In all honesty, there was no way I’d get involved with a man like him—not when I already had accomplished half my goal. He had seen me, and I had let my guard down a bit. Now, I had to figure out how to get away.
“As flattered as I am,” I said, smiling politely, “I’m afraid I’m not interested. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to tend to.” Evading his heated gaze, I grabbed my bag and turned away when his hand clasped around my upper arm—gently but forceful enough to stop me. His touch was hot, burning through my clothes like lava.
“Why not?” he asked, wearing a lazy grin that spelled trouble.
The way he was standing, so close to me, with his hand around my arm, I felt myself heating up. His thumb started to move in circles over my skin, carrying with it an unspoken promise I couldn’t deny. A picture flashed through my mind: his lips and tongue licking my skin, his fingers prodding my knickers to find my secret entrance. Instantly, the telltale heat of a major blush scorched my cheeks.