thinking it sounds terribly boring.
“Though…” He leans closer. “I do have a magic trick or two up my sleeve.”
My mouth gapes at the suggestion in his tone. He can’t possibly be talking about…
His lips graze my ear. “Maybe I’ll teach you a few of them, sometime.”
Oh. Yep. He’s definitely talking about sex.
I don’t know whether to laugh or choke, so I simply swallow another gulp of champagne. Cormack’s still leaning close, his mouth practically on my ear as he chuckles lowly, when my eyes cut through the crowd and find the one thing I’ve told myself over and over I haven’t been searching for all night.
There’s a man standing by the wall, practically blended into the shadows, his every muscle on high alert and his stare locked on me. His muscular body fills out a pair of dark slacks dangerously well. His biceps strain against the confines of his black button down; his tanned throat is on display with the top buttons of his shirt left undone.
My mouth feels suddenly dry.
Dark eyes meet mine, trapping me in an instant. I’m a deer in headlights, frozen, staring at him across a crowded sea of people. There must be fifty of them, standing in the space between us, but as seconds slip away with our gazes locked, every one of them simply falls away until we’re the only two in the room.
Nate, Nate, Nate.
Every atom in my body starts to sing, totally entranced by his presence. There’s something terrifying about a man who holds that much sway over you. A man who can just look at you — not even with kindness or love, but with a hard-set mouth and cold-burning eyes — and unravel you like a spool of useless thread.
One glance and I’m a goner.
I hear Cormack saying something at my ear but for the life of me, I can’t make out his words. He’s a candle throwing faint light… and Nate’s the sun — eclipsing everything else, pulling me into his orbit.
I’m not breathing, as I look at him. I can’t. Every ounce of control I have over my body is being used up with the effort of keeping my eyes steady on his face. His goddamned beautiful, haunted face. I wonder, if I ever got the chance to trace its harsh lines with my fingertips, to stroke that ever-clenched jaw with gentle hands… would it soften at all beneath my touch? Or would loving Nate be like touching stone?
You hate him. He’s terrible. Stop looking at him.
Those dark eyes burn into mine and I think they’ll never let go, never release me. That I’ll age and wither and die right here, in this spot, because I can’t look away. But then Cormack moves, his hand skimming my arm in a useless call for attention, and those consuming dark eyes shift. Breath whooshes back into my lungs as Nate stares at the man by my side. His eyes flash with something indecipherable, his jaw clenches, and then he’s gone.
Slipping into the crowd like a ghost, until I’ve lost sight of him.
Chapter Nine
I’m an adult. Just last week,
I purchased a vegetable.
Not on purpose, of course.
Phoebe West, on the meaning of adulthood.
“Phoebe?”
I blink hard and turn to Cormack, wishing it didn’t take such monumental effort to turn my back on the place Nate stood only seconds before.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, meeting my date’s confused eyes and shrugging lightly. “Just spaced out for a second.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I try out a smile. It feels wobbly on my lips. “Too much champagne. All those bubbles go straight to my head.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Thankfully, Cormack doesn’t seem to notice. Or, if he does, he’s too much of a gentleman to contradict me.
“What were we talking about?” I ask, in dire need of a subject change.
“I was about to ask what you do for work.” His smile is all easy
“Though…” He leans closer. “I do have a magic trick or two up my sleeve.”
My mouth gapes at the suggestion in his tone. He can’t possibly be talking about…
His lips graze my ear. “Maybe I’ll teach you a few of them, sometime.”
Oh. Yep. He’s definitely talking about sex.
I don’t know whether to laugh or choke, so I simply swallow another gulp of champagne. Cormack’s still leaning close, his mouth practically on my ear as he chuckles lowly, when my eyes cut through the crowd and find the one thing I’ve told myself over and over I haven’t been searching for all night.
There’s a man standing by the wall, practically blended into the shadows, his every muscle on high alert and his stare locked on me. His muscular body fills out a pair of dark slacks dangerously well. His biceps strain against the confines of his black button down; his tanned throat is on display with the top buttons of his shirt left undone.
My mouth feels suddenly dry.
Dark eyes meet mine, trapping me in an instant. I’m a deer in headlights, frozen, staring at him across a crowded sea of people. There must be fifty of them, standing in the space between us, but as seconds slip away with our gazes locked, every one of them simply falls away until we’re the only two in the room.
Nate, Nate, Nate.
Every atom in my body starts to sing, totally entranced by his presence. There’s something terrifying about a man who holds that much sway over you. A man who can just look at you — not even with kindness or love, but with a hard-set mouth and cold-burning eyes — and unravel you like a spool of useless thread.
One glance and I’m a goner.
I hear Cormack saying something at my ear but for the life of me, I can’t make out his words. He’s a candle throwing faint light… and Nate’s the sun — eclipsing everything else, pulling me into his orbit.
I’m not breathing, as I look at him. I can’t. Every ounce of control I have over my body is being used up with the effort of keeping my eyes steady on his face. His goddamned beautiful, haunted face. I wonder, if I ever got the chance to trace its harsh lines with my fingertips, to stroke that ever-clenched jaw with gentle hands… would it soften at all beneath my touch? Or would loving Nate be like touching stone?
You hate him. He’s terrible. Stop looking at him.
Those dark eyes burn into mine and I think they’ll never let go, never release me. That I’ll age and wither and die right here, in this spot, because I can’t look away. But then Cormack moves, his hand skimming my arm in a useless call for attention, and those consuming dark eyes shift. Breath whooshes back into my lungs as Nate stares at the man by my side. His eyes flash with something indecipherable, his jaw clenches, and then he’s gone.
Slipping into the crowd like a ghost, until I’ve lost sight of him.
Chapter Nine
I’m an adult. Just last week,
I purchased a vegetable.
Not on purpose, of course.
Phoebe West, on the meaning of adulthood.
“Phoebe?”
I blink hard and turn to Cormack, wishing it didn’t take such monumental effort to turn my back on the place Nate stood only seconds before.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, meeting my date’s confused eyes and shrugging lightly. “Just spaced out for a second.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I try out a smile. It feels wobbly on my lips. “Too much champagne. All those bubbles go straight to my head.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Thankfully, Cormack doesn’t seem to notice. Or, if he does, he’s too much of a gentleman to contradict me.
“What were we talking about?” I ask, in dire need of a subject change.
“I was about to ask what you do for work.” His smile is all easy
Similar Books
