I stared at her a moment longer, taking her in. Her caramel eyes were dark with lust, the center like a sunburst, a flame of gold shooting out from near the pupil, filling the iris. Her hair was lush and thick, and I wanted to wrap it around my hand, to bend her to my will. There were so many things I wanted to do to her.
Even still, I sensed this was a game, a test, and I wanted to play. I enjoyed the chase, the tease, sometimes more than the catch. I was attracted to her, but I was just as interested in getting to know her. And that thought gave me pause.
“And what should I call you?” I trailed a finger over her lips. It was as if they blossomed beneath my touch, her breath warming my skin. “Beautiful? Gorgeous?” I asked, continuing to list adjectives.
“Clearly, you’re familiar with a thesaurus,” she teased, though her eyes darkened at my words.
“Yes, though—” I leaned in, allowing my breath to fan across her lips. “I’m more a man of action than words.”
She leaned forward, and if she were any closer, we’d be kissing. With our hips pressed against each other and my hands encasing her waist, it felt practically erotic despite the layers of clothing separating us. The air between us was warm with lust, stripping me of my sense, like I wanted to strip this woman of her clothes.
Just when I thought she was going to close the distance and put me out of my agony, she ducked beneath my arm. “I can’t do this.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, down her hips. “Not tonight. Not here.”
I frowned, but remained undeterred. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, and I couldn’t let her get away this time.
“Later, then. Meet me.” It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head.
I could feel her slipping away, and I’d never felt so desperate to make a woman stay. What was it about her?
Was it her banter or her smile? Or the way she kept me guessing, wanting? Or maybe it was the lack of sex. I hadn’t had sex in six weeks, despite no longer being bound by the bet with Preston. I’d been busy—buying a house, moving back to LA, keeping up with the demands of work—but it was more than that.
She seemed interested, but…something was holding her back. Realization dawned on me, and I wondered if it wasn’t something, but rather someone. I gnashed my teeth at that prospect, but I had to ask.
“Hot date?” I teased, dreading her answer.
She shook her head. “Good friend.”
I followed her gaze to where a stunning blonde sipped a fresh cocktail, two men leaning against her table. They hung on her every word, just as I had with my Target temptress.
“Her?” I jerked my chin in the direction of the blonde, and she nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
I turned back to my vixen, tracing a trail down her neck with my nose. She smelled fucking amazing, like coconut or a tropical island. Like my own paradise. I wanted to escape to her sunny shores and azure waters. I wanted to lose myself in her.
She moaned, her hands gripping my shirt as I ventured lower still, pressing my lips to her skin. Her chest heaved, her skin flushed with excitement, and damn if I wasn’t just as eager. My cock was straining against my zipper, and I couldn’t wait to discover if her body was just as incredible as I’d imagined.
“No. Wait,” she panted. She placed her hands flat on my chest, gently pushing me away.
Despite my need to consume her, I withdrew even though I suspected it wasn’t what she truly wanted.
“I’m sorry. I want to—” She glanced down my body, unabashed of her blatant perusal.
I didn’t mind because I was doing the same thing, drinking in her full breasts, the hint of pale pink lace peeking out from the neckline of her dress. Did her underwear match? Was she even wearing any?
Fuck.
I adjusted myself, sensing I was losing ground when I should be gaining it.
“Look.” She straightened her dress. “My friend may seem fine, but this was supposed to be her wedding day.”
“Supposed to?” I asked, unable to resist.
I couldn’t imagine a bombshell like her friend being left at the altar, but what did I know? I’d turned down the chance to be with many beautiful women. Though none seemed to hold a candle to the one currently standing before me.
“Her fiancé, well, he was…” She glanced back as if to confirm that her friend wasn’t listening. “He’s missing. They think he’s dead.”
My eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure what the proper response was. So I merely said, “I’m sorry.”
