Unchain My Heart(6)

She was watching the people around her, taking a sip from her drink and placing it back on the table in front of her without touching the sticky surface. I leaned against the bar, my foot on the metal footrest as I kept gawking, unable to tear my fucking eyes away. She fished her cell phone out of her purse and typed something in with her thumb flying over the screen. I grinned—she was a lefty, like me.

Then, finally, she looked up and straight into my eyes as if she sensed I was watching her. Her steel-grey eyes widened for a fraction of a second and her nostrils flared ever-so-slightly. Locking her eyes on mine, her bored expression changed to one of amusement. Shocked by the effect we had on one another, I couldn’t help breaking into a smile. She likes me.

How did I know this without even speaking a word to her? One of my specialties was reading micro-expressions. It was a universal language. Every single person on the planet communicated subconsciously through expressions on their faces that lasted all of a few seconds, yet revealed their true emotions. It was inborn and uncontrollable. We all did it, even if we weren’t aware of it. Learning to read and interpret those signals was a skill that could save a life—it made the difference when split-second decisions needed to be made and errors were fatal.

She liked what she saw, all right. Her body subtly leaned toward me and she uncrossed her legs. The way she played with her hair while she licked her lips indicated that she found me sexually attractive, too. A suitable partner to mate with. Besides micro-expressions, I was an expert at reading body language.

My gaze raked her body, taking in the long, lean limbs, the golden, sun-kissed skin, and the perkiest breasts I’d had the pleasure of laying my eyes on in ages. I was a tit-man through and through—I loved everything about them, including licking, and especially fucking them.

An extraordinarily beautiful face, every feature in perfect proportion to the others, complimented her slim body. So this was what Leonardo Da Vinci meant when he measured and described the perfect face—I’d always wondered about that . . . Plus, her slightly pointed chin and doe-like eyes, together with high cheekbones and a generous mouth with full pouty lips, was what every high-paid runway model would kill for.

But it was her long, rich, espresso-brown hair framing her face and falling down her back, just skimming her ass, that made a man want to pull her by her hair to his cave and fuck the shit out of her. Everything about her made me want to mate with her in the most primal way.

I shook my head and closed my eyes for a few seconds. Surely I was dreaming? Women like her were a myth. She couldn’t be real.

Her soft laugh carried over the other voices and sounded like small bells in my ears. Jesus Christ, I was hallucinating. Too much coffee and too little sleep did that to a person.

Fully expecting the vision to be gone when I opened my eyes, I sucked in a breath when I looked again and she was still staring at me, her arms crossed over her impressive tits and her bright eyes boring into mine, unflinching. I shuffled a few paces closer, eager to get as close as possible to her, at least within talking distance . . .

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Her voice was melodious, and she sounded amused.

“I’m sorry. For a moment there you reminded me of someone I knew.”

“Yeah, I have a common face. People always seem to think they know me.” She shrugged, as if strangers always said this kind of thing to her.

Fuck. She was anything but ordinary. I doubt I’d ever seen a more beautiful woman in my life.

“So what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” I indicated around us, still surprised as fuck to see someone like her here. Okay, this wasn’t exactly the worst place in L.A. —I’d seen a lot shoddier—but it wasn’t a place I’d expect to see a woman with so much obvious class. This divine creature was slumming it tonight, and I thanked my lucky stars I was here to witness it.

She laughed softly. “I could ask you the same question. You have the whole bad boy thing going on. Tattoo—check. Big brawny arms—check. Killer smile—check. Dressed in all black—check again. Yet, you don’t fit in here. There is something about you . . . that’s different.”

Fuck. I’d spent years perfecting my undercover persona, blending in with the crowd, but she’d sussed me within minutes. Either I was losing my touch, or she was one hell of a smart woman.

“My sister invited me for a few drinks. It’s her birthday. How could I refuse?” I grinned sheepishly.

“Aww, that’s sweet.” She winked at me and by fuck, my chest tightened. It was as if we were the only two people in the crowded room.