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The biggest, burliest man I've ever seen in my entire life is stalking over toward us. A thick, dark brown beard adorns the bottom half of his face. His shirt is molded to the ridges of muscles straining against his T-shirt like it's all the fabric can do to contain all that manliness.
Even though it's winter in Denver, this man is wearing short sleeves like he laughs in the face of the cold weather. Tats decorate his arms.
He’s a powerhouse of masculinity.
Good lord, what does this man do? Weight-lift cars?
All that muscle must be more than enough to protect him against winter’s chill, but I'm wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater. I’m also wearing a big, fluffy coat too. I stay cold all the time, but this man…something tells me that his big body is like a furnace.
I'm proved correct when he finally stops right in front of me—so close to me that there's scarcely an inch left between our bodies. I tip my head up to look at the giant towering over me. I'm barely five foot two, so I'm short even compared to the average person, but this guy is way above average. He has to be well over six feet tall, making me appear even teenier and tinier than usual.
His eyes are a deep brown, like the finest chocolate.
They bore down into me in a way that sends all the blood rushing to my cheeks.
His eyes have taken mine captive. I couldn't look away from them if I tried.
I vaguely register Cara murmuring something, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the roaring in my ears. It’s like this man has caused everything around me to dim.
The man’s eyes rove over my face as if he's trying to commit all of it to memory before one of his giant hands reach out to gently touch my hair.
His lips part slightly, and my breath hitches.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice is like a big rumble of thunder, and it sends little shock waves rolling through me.
“Holly.” I don't even contemplate not answering him because I'm suddenly dying to know who he is too.
I don't even have to prompt him for his own name.
“Holly,” he tastes my name on his lips and nods his head in approval.
My blush deepens, pleasure unfurling deep in my belly at the look of approval on his face.
“I'm Rocky,” that deep voice rumbles again.
“Rocky,” I repeat his name like he did mine, and his eyes close for a moment as if he’s savoring the sound of it.
“Say it again,” he rumbles.
My cheeks flame even brighter, but I give him what he wants.
“Rocky.”
A shudder goes through his big frame. “I’ve never liked the sound of my name so much,” he growls before he pins me in his intense gaze again.
He takes a deep breath before he says, his eyes never leaving mine, “I'm not good with subterfuge, Holly. I'm not one of those guys who's going to dance around what he wants and ease into it. I see what I want, and I go after ut.”
My heart beats against my ribcage as the intensity in his eyes deepens.
“When I saw you across the room just now…” He shakes his big head before he continues. “I don't know what happened, but fuck, I want you.”
My breath catches.
He rushes on, “I know I'm coming on strong, and I don't want to freak you out, but I don't see any point in beating around the bush. I’m going to make you mine.”
The way he saysminecomes out as a growl, and my heart flutters at the possessive way he's looking at me—like I already belong to him.
This is crazy. I don't know anything about this guy, and I’ve never wanted to belong to someone before. A monologue like this coming from any other man would undoubtedly infuriate me. It would come off as cocky and arrogant, but it doesn’t come off that way with this man.
