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Chapter one
Alexandra
I whipped my head backward as an unsettling feeling filled my body with dread; the familiar feeling of a predator sent a sharp tingle up my spine, and I knew it was time to run again. The hairs on my arms rose.
I can feel eyes on me.But there was something else about this night, like two bells harmonizing. The sensation was infuriating, and I was soon scanning the bar in search of the culprit.
The jazz bar was dimly lit, and every booth was smeared with a hint of orange light that made the tastefully decorated place look creepy and classy at the same time. It had the same look as any old hotel bar, but it felt different tonight. I could not shake the feeling in my gut. I circled my gaze over everyone in sight, searching for the culprit. The heartbeat in my ears increased. I was certain someone was looking at me, staring defiantly and unapologetically.
Who are you?
His golden-brown eyes were softly devouring me in a daydream. His crooked smile accentuated his chiseled jawline, and I was transfixed with a longing to be lost in the dream together. I smiled, and he looked shocked for a moment before increasing his smile. With that, I felt the flush rise to my cheeks as his intensity washed over my body. I couldn't look away. I lost my breath. If I had known people could stare at others with such intensity, I would have never looked up. The way this man is looking at me makes my skin burn with desire, feeling as if his hands were on me warming me to the core.
Why am I thinking about his touch?Focus, Alexandra, focus.I pulled my gaze from his with a blink, taking a breath I hadn't realized I needed. I cannot think about him touching me; I should only be thinking about staying away from him and his coffee-brown dipped-in-sunshine eyes.
I dared a second glance to find a hungry grin on his face, and I knew I needed to get out of there, but I waited a second too long before looking away. I'm not trying to give him the wrong idea, but I might have; the flush on my face is apparent.
“I think I might have caught you staring,” a deep caramel voice sang in my ear only moments later, and I knew who it was without turning around. His golden gaze makes me shield myself from the sun of his existence, and I don't even know the man’s name.
“Did you now?” I asked, playing with my still-full glass of wine, refusing to look at him.
“I did. Your ocean-blue, perfectly almond-shaped eyes settled on me for a lifetime before you looked away. And I had to get them back.” He leaned in painfully close before sitting next to me. The spice of his Chanel cologne was masculine and timeless. I didn’t even see the tailored suit next to his firm chest, but the bulge in his trousers that beckoned for me had me looking up in embarrassment.
“Perhaps they settled on you accidentally. You should consider returning to the bar.” I make sure to keep my voice emotionless, not wanting to draw his attention. I need to look uninterested, and he will leave me alone.
Do I even want him to leave me alone?I wondered.
“I know when a gaze settles on me accidentally and when eyes as deep as the sea settle on me meaningfully.”
“Are you a poet? You have been rambling about my eyes, and it is beginning to get redundant,” I smirked, allowing my words to push this guy away. But I also wanted him to continue. I turned my shoulders a bit so I could look at him and still keep away. Looking was proving to be a problem. How long could I fight the desire to touch, to taste… I caught myself licking my lips and was hit with a new wave of crimson as the realization of my actions set in.
“If I was a poet, I would have found a muse in you. For your beauty, ten sonnets would not be enough. And you, my flame, deserve each one of those unwritten sonnets.” I continued to stare at him, unable to look away as he caressed me with his words. His scent flooded my mind and soon, I decided I didn’twant him to let me go. I wanted him to stay right here so I could figure out if his eyes were more brown than gold or more gold than brown. I could spend hours looking and still wouldn’t be sure.
“Ten sonnets for the beloved. Very original, sir,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone.
What is wrong with me?I never act this way.
I’m usually kind to anyone who tries to talk to me. I’m a sweet girl without a sarcastic bone in her body. Although with this man, I can’t stop myself from wanting to challenge him or ruffle his feathers, almost as if he were competition. Or was this what people call flirting? I had no idea.
“Do you dislike me so much that you can’t even turn around entirely to look at me?” he asked, leaning in bridging the distance I’d created.
“I do not know you well enough to dislike you,” I replied, finally turning to face him completely. “Although, if my indifference is hurting you, I will make amends and turn.”
“Perhaps you can buy me a drink and get to know me a little better?”
I laughed genuinely at his suggestion the way I hadn’t laughed in a long time, and my heart felt lighter as I fell into his charm. I didn’t know what it was about him that kept surprising me, but I hated to admit that I liked it. Any other man would have offered to buy me a drink, but he decided to go the other way.
“I think I can do that,” I nodded. Before I could signal the bartender, the handsome stranger’s hand reached toward my untouched wine glass and firmly grasped the stem before picking it up and taking a sip. A drip formed in the corner of his mouth as he downed the glass. He licked the drop from his lip slowly and intentionally as I followed his movement with my eager eyes.
“Thank you.” He winked at me. I had ordered the wine for myself but did not really feel like drinking with the strange feeling I felt in the air. Had I known this stranger would brazenly walk into my life and sit beside me to drink my wine, I would have drank it earlier. He was certainly something.
“What are you?” I asked, slightly exasperated by his boldness. It’s not that I haven’t met confident men before, but they had been self-obsessed or smug. He was neither. He was simply a man who was so sure of his masculinity that asking a woman to buy him a drink did not hurt his ego.
Nothing could be more attractive, I thought as he tilted his head with a smirk.
“The more appropriate question would be, ‘Who are you?’” He leaned in. “I am Sebastian Huntington. And you?” He kissed my hand, and shivers ran up and down my body.
“Alexandra Silvers,” I replied, my voice turning lower since we were only inches apart now. I was hypnotized by his demeanor and confidence.
