One
Sieirra
The manat the end of the bar keeps staring at me. At first, I think maybe there’s something on my face, but when I brush my fingers against my cheek, I find nothing. There must be something “off” about me though because there’s no way that the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen could possibly be watching me because he’s interested. That’s not the kind of life I live.
He raises his whiskey on the rocks to his full lips and tilts his head back, exposing his thick neck. I can’t tear my eyes away from his Adam’s apple when he swallows. Luckily, I’m able to focus back on my glass of wine before he notices me staring. His eyes burn into me, and again, I’m left wondering why?
All around the bar, women eye the tall, dark, and handsome giant in his charcoal suit, his dress shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal what must be a tanned, toned chest. No one’s had the guts to go over and talk to the man, who’s been sitting alone the entire time I’ve been here. God knows it won’t be me.
Being from out of town, I don’t know anyone here. Hell, I shouldn’t even be down here. I should be upstairs in my room, getting a good night’s sleep before my interview tomorrow, not at the hotel bar dreaming about what it would be like to grab that sexy businessman by his lapels and let him have his way with me. But, either nerves or excitement—probably a little of both—have kept me wide awake.
The reality of what’s happening tomorrow is like an iced cold splash of water on my face. I need to get back to my hotel room. I take another long, smooth sip of my white wine, hoping it will relax me, but with Mr. Sexy Suit Man staring at me, I’m even more nervous than when I walked into this place.
Which leads me to believe that I really should get to bed.
I signal the bartender and ask her for the check. The buxom redhead leans forward and wipes her hands on her apron. “Your tab is paid for.”
“Excuse me?” I say, confused. “There must be some mistake. I haven’t put down a card or anything.”
The bartender raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow, and a sly smile spreads across her lips. “The gentleman in the corner paid your tab.” My mouth drops open, and for the first time, I lock eyes with Mr. Sexy Suit Man. His warm, honey-brown eyes stare right through me as he raises what’s left of his whiskey. “He’s been coming here for as long as I’ve been working here.” She speaks softly. “Always alone, and he’s never bought anyone a drink…ever.”
“Really?” I whisper, unable to break eye contact with the man as he rises from his barstool.
“You, my friend, are about to make every single woman in the bar jealous as hell.” I turn to her, about to tell her that that’s not my mission. That I don’t know why in God’s name this hunk-a-hunk-a-walking-sex is buying me a drink. But I don’t have the chance. The barstool next to me skids against the floor as Mr. Sexy Suit plants himself alongside me.
Any lingering thoughts of going back to my room alone dissipate into thin air the minute he sits. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to suppress the overwhelming desire pulsing between my legs the second his crisp, clean cologne fills the space between us.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say, still wondering if there isn’t something on my face, hoping against hope there isn’t. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t.” His thick, gravelly voice dampens my panties. Before I can respond, the bartender sets another round in front of both of us. “Cheers.”
Wow. Clearly, this guy’s one cocky motherfucker, and I wish I had it in me to resist him. But, if history is any indication, he’s exactly my toxic type.
“Cheers,” I say and take a sip.
Every ounce of common sense inside of me says that I should finish this drink and go the hell to bed. That I didn’t drive over two-hundred miles for a job interview at the PR firm of my dreams just to be hungover and blow it when I finally get the opportunity. But common sense isn’t driving the bus right now. My hormones are.
“You aren’t from here.” He angles his body toward me.
“How do you know that?” I tease.
“I just know.”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m in a hotel bar?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“That may have tipped me off a bit.” One corner of his mouth turns up into a half-smile.
My eyes dance up and down his face, and I’m willing to bet he’s the kind of man who’s never struggled for anything in his life, not with looks like that. His strong, square jaw, glowing golden eyes, and perfectly imperfect Roman nose are features reserved for movie stars and male models. Combined with his height—which appears to be well over six feet—and his broad, muscular frame…
Wait, why is he talking tomeagain? This guy is a goddamn wet dream fantasy come to life.
“So, where are you from?” He asks.
“Does it matter?” I know what this is all boiling down to, and I’m game for it. Maybe a little one-night stand with a sexy stranger is exactly what I need to relax. God knows if he performs even half as good as he looks, I’m in for one hell of a good night.
“No.” He says and finishes his drink in one swig. “Does it matter to you?”
I can’t help but smile. This isn’t what I had planned tonight, but they say life happens when you’re busy making other plans. So…the hell with it. “Nope.”