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I bite my tongue and take in the array of options. There are dozens of gorgeous faces, and gorgeous figures to match. Some of them have even glanced my way already. Their seductive gazes send a jolt of eagerness through me as I realize how easy it would be. Just a few flirtatious comments, enough to make her feel like she’s more beautiful than the rest of the women here tonight, and she’ll be putty in my hands.
I watch one woman take a shot and wink at me from across the bar. She’s pretty enough, with long legs and curves in all the right places. From the way she is already watching me, she’d probably say yes before I even asked her to come back to my room. It would be fun, sure. It always is.
I know myself well, and self-control is not my strong suit, nor do I really want it to be. Instant gratification is safe…emotionally at least. But I shrug. “We’ll see.”
His eyes widen. “But this is Long Island, man. This is like the crème-de-la-crème of beautiful women.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Promise you won’t write off a chance if it presents itself?”
I take a deep breath and stare at him pointedly as women in short dresses move about behind him, trying to catch my attention. I’m not sure Long Island is the crème-de-la-crème, but it’s certainly near the top of the list. I break into a grin. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”
“Good man.” Drew pats me on the back and then runs his hand through his hair again. It is clearly a gesture that boosts his confidence.
I take another swig of my whiskey, finishing off the glass, and look past him toward the opposite corner of the room where a tall brunette, dressed in bright red, stands chatting and giggling with a small group of girls. I can only see the back of her head, but as my gaze travels down her shoulders and the curve of her waist, interest bubbles within me. She stands with one hip slung to the side, and she throws her head back as she laughs, letting her dark waves tumble down her back.
There is an ease in her stance, and I’ll bet on the spot she’d be a quick yes if I play my cards right. But I swiftly remember I have to get up early in the morning to catch my flight home, and the thought of trying to get any semblance of decent sleep while she clings to my arm sounds grueling.
I start to look away, but just as I do, she shifts to the side and reveals another young woman across from her. She’s shorter than the brunette and very petite. Her auburn-red hair is pulled up, and she’s wearing a black lace dress that hugs her small figure closely. Her skin is flawless, and her big brown eyes are framed with long lashes that sit above a small nose.
She appears to be attempting to smile as she chats with the others, but when her lips pull up, the expression never touches her eyes. It’s clear she’s faking it.
With a drink in one hand, her other is at her side, nervously pulling at the fabric of her dress. Her anxiousness is endearing and adorable, and I wonder why she’s here if the environment makes her so uneasy.
When she begins to speak to her friend, my eyes find her lips and watch them move as she talks. Rosy-red and perfectly full, they’re fascinating. And then she smiles again, except this time, it’s real, and her nose crinkles as she begins to giggle.
She is gorgeous.
I almost forget Drew’s next to me because I can’t tear my eyes off this girl. I have to speak to her. I have to hear the sound of her voice.
“I figure you want to keep ‘em coming?” Drew says from beside me. I jump and clear my throat as I look down to see him holding a fresh whiskey in my direction.
Without really paying attention, I set my empty glass down and take the new one from him. After a long gulp, I eye the girl again. Drew’s looks are his confidence builder. Whiskey is mine.
It’s my third drink of the night, and I feel it in my head just enough that I welcome the sensation. A dulling of my senses will help me dull my nerves too if I get a chance to speak to the pretty girl across the room.
There is such a shy nature and innocence in her expression. The quiet ones are always the most interesting to me. Girls like this one are the least likely to give me a bit of their time. It makes the game more fun.
She’s back to observing again, having given her small contribution to the conversation. She studies her companions as if trying to read them like I’m reading her.
Shifting her weight back and forth, she keeps eying the door longingly. But the night has just begun, and I’m not going to let her out of my sight until I have a chance with her. I bet lots of men have their eye on her tonight, but I’m not about to let anyone else get a word in.
I bite my lip, planning my opening line. Which one will work on her? A compliment? A joke? No, I’ll ask to buy her a drink. That’s straight to the point.
Her impossibly long lashes blink rapidly as she speaks again to her friends. Her eyes dart across their faces, one by one, and then to my surprise, they land on mine.
I swallow and quickly look away, stunned by her direct gaze. But I furrow my brow and take another drink. It’s not like me to shy away from an interested glance. I curse myself internally, realizing how lame I must look.
I pull it together and look up again. She’s still in the same spot, and she’s sipping her drink as she watches her friend speak. The brunette looks over her shoulder toward the bar a few times, and it’s confirmation that she is attractive, but without the unconventionality of the redhead. Plus, I can tell she’s trying to catch a glimpse of Drew. Each time she turns back around to her group, her shoulders hunch as she whispers something and giggles.
My eyes remain almost exclusively on the redhead, though. They travel down her black dress, pausing on the gentle curves it accentuates. Her legs are toned and as smooth as porcelain, and her skin is fair, contrasting the overdone tans that fill the rest of the room.
Small feet fill delicate black heels, and after I reach her toes, I let my gaze slide back up slowly, allowing fantasies in my head to come to the surface. I wonder how it would feel to capture her lips with mine and press her tiny frame into the wall…run my hands up her waist and cup her—
My heart leaps when my gaze reaches her face, because she’s been staring directly at me the whole time.
I fight the inclination to look away again and lock eyes with her instead. She’s seen me study her from head to toe now. I might as well own it.
It’s obvious she isn’t expecting me to hold her gaze so intently because this time she gives in quickly and looks down at her drink. But I don’t. I stand still and wait because I know she’ll return her attention to me eventually. They always do.
And to my amusement, it’s not more than a few seconds later when she does exactly that.
