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If I spend the rest of my life fulfilling the prophecy but get one moment with this perfect man, then it will be enough.
Right?
Chapter Two
Cam
* * *
“Hi.”
The word means nothing. Means everything. Means I can connect with her, this woman whose very existence slams like a tornado across my entire body, whipping my blood to froth, my cock hard as steel, my body throbbing with energy created solely by her proximity.
Her little wave is polite, but those eyes. The way her pupils dilate, widening like her legs in bed. Transfixed, she watches me, feeling it, too.
The dude next to her scowls at the dog. “Why didn’t we get a decent breed like he has?” the man says in a voice I don’t like, pointing at my dog, Butter.
That’s the voice of an arrogant son of a bitch.
That’s the voice of a man I need to eliminate.
“Rudy,” she says in a tight voice that comes out like silk wrapped around my cock, “Winnie will hear you. Shhh,” she says with a laugh, placing her fingertips on his forearm, their eyes meeting as they smile at each other.
It’s all an act.
Why are these two acting so hard?
Instinct kicks in, fighting with my tsunami of arousal for this strange woman. Long, blonde hair pulled into a thick braid draped over her shoulder. Heart-shaped face, with big eyes, white framing a gorgeous flecked topaz iris. Her nose is petite and curved down to a bow-tie mouth, my mind’s eye instantly flashing to an image of sinking deep into that velvet warmth.
Jesus. What am I doing? I’m here to keep Butter from peeing on table legs. At the rate I’m going, I’ll come all over mine. This woman is hot as hell, but so are plenty of other women. Why am I reacting like this to her?
“Okay, Princess,” Rudy replies, planting a kiss on her cheek. The gray-haired couple to our right give each other a knowing glance.
Whatever game these two are up to, they’re fooling the typicals in the crowd.
My brain is anything but typical.
I’m actually here for dog obedience training for Butter, a two-year-old rescue I got two months ago and can’t seem to keep from eating my socks and marking everything that looks like a tree in my apartment. But I’m also a pattern-matcher by trade, and something about the behavior in this couple is off.
Especially since the woman is eyeing me like she’s imagining my cock in her mouth, too.
And my mouth on places that would make Princess scream for more.
Rudy’s a pattern-matcher too, though. The way he scans the group, eyes planting on me, tells me what I need to know.
The man is in the industry.
Bodyguard, special ops, mafia – you name it, he’s there. Arms dealer? Oil guy? Something that involves being not-so-nice for a living when duty calls.
And unfortunately, that not-so-nice part can spill over into real life more than it should.
“Hey,” I say, tugging Butter just enough to make him go after their little Scooby snack of a dog they have. Teacup Chihuahuas are cute. Butter thinks they’re the equivalent of a squirrel. The poor thing quivers in place and “Princess” bends down to pick it up, giving me a nice, ripe view of a well-sculpted ass in those leggings. A long shirt drops down to her knees as she stands, but the bend gave me the intel I needed.
Nice, hot intel.
Creamy, ample, delicate, shapely intel.
They both look at me.
