Page 2 of Midnight Player

Instead, he’d charm her into his bed and spend his night worshipping her sweet curves. “Hey there, sugar. What are you drinking?”

2

Willa escaped the crush of people in the main bar area with a relieved sigh. Between the numerous writers from her conference and the players and staff for the Philadelphia Flashes staying at the hotel this weekend, there wasn’t a seat available. Willa was thrilled she had scored a spot at the Vivaldi’s hidden bar, Nocturne, because it was significantly less crowded. Months ago, when she first booked her stay at the Vivaldi, after conducting some extensive research on the hotel, she discovered Nocturne’s existence. The only way to visit the secret bar was to make a reservation many months in advance. For Willa, avoiding the crush of bodies was a dream come true.

Plus, she felt like one of her badass heroines instead of what she really was: a shy wallflower more comfortable at home with her books.

But in Nocturne, with its 1920s art déco theme, she could breathe without the throngs pressing in on her. At least she could until she glanced at the man beside her. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. She only looked for a moment because staring was rude. As an avowed introvert, Willa wasn’t stellar at polite conversation or being around people—or acting like a normal human. She could only come across as normal in her books through her characters with their snappy dialogue.

But in real life, she didn’t fit in.

Whoever the guy was, he was the hottest man she’d seen outside of her own imagination. If she wrote about him, she’d describe him as a dashing rake. Devilishly attractive with inky hair slicked away from a face that was all hard angles and proud features that commanded a woman’s attention. His full lips were shrouded by a few days’ worth of dark stubble.

At his question, she shifted toward him. Why was this man talking to her? Was he waiting for someone? Surely, he wasn’t hitting on her. This guy could score any woman he wanted. No, seriously, he was that gorgeous. She’d bet when he passed by, women automatically dropped their panties. She was fighting to keep hers on.

He clearly worked out. His six-foot build was packed with oodles of muscles. They strained his navy button-down shirt, providing a clear glimpse of chiseled shoulders and biceps. He’d loosened the collar. In the open vee, she spied a hint of inky chest hair. She liked that he had hair on his chest instead of the trend where men shaved their chests. She liked a man with hair on his body.

The sleeves were rolled up near his elbows. Willa wanted to fan her face. Because he had the sexiest forearms. On his left wrist, he sported a silver Bulgari watch. Whoever this sexy dude was, he clearly had money. The owner ofThe Eros Pit, the lifestyle club she belonged to in Denver, wore a Bulgari watch. She’d looked the brand and model up once out of curiosity, the writer’s curse, and it sold for fifty grand—for a watch.

“Sugar? Really?” She arched a brow in question. For someone with money, she was shocked he used such a lame pickup line. But he wasn’t really hitting on her. Right?

She wasn’t model thin by a long shot. Her body didn’t want to lose its curves, no matter how hard she tried. She finally made peace with the fact that she had boobs and an ass in an hourglass figure. And this testosterone-laden alpha was so far out of her league he was on the dark side of the moon.

Willa staunchly ignored the way his sexy, Southern drawl curled and twisted inside her chest, sending sparks of electricity into her core.

He shifted his big body until he faced her. With eyes so dark a blue they resembled the twilight sky, his hot gaze slid over her body like a caress. Jesus, when he stared, her body went up in flames. Her girl parts throbbed.

In her twenty-seven years, she’d never had a man look like he wanted to eat her up one delectable bite at a time. The guy dripped with sex appeal. His intense smolder turned the throb into a flaming ache spreading through her limbs until her entire being felt engulfed by the inferno.

What was this guy doing to her? She’d been around commanding alphas for years but never had one affect her this way.

Willa wanted to fan herself. Her skin felt three sizes too small beneath his brazen stare.

She might be able to write women who were smart, sassy, and could hold their own with the men they were destined to find their happily ever after with. But in real life, she grew tongue-tied, was painfully shy, and never knew how to respond.

He licked his lips when his gaze landed on her breasts, like he was imagining the way they’d taste. It didn’t help that her nipples puckered up under his fiery stare and were so stiff against her dress there was no way he didn’t see them—the little traitors.

“Yep. Because you look just as sweet as my mama’s pecan pie. And I just want to eat you up. I’m Jake. And who might you be, sugar?”

She shivered at his lusty innuendo.

“Willa.” She lowered her gaze, her natural submissive tendencies kicking into high gear. “Where are you from?” She could handle this. Make small talk with the sexy alpha.

“Willa. Beautiful name. Originally, I’m from Louisiana bayou country just outside of New Orleans. Currently, I’m in Philadelphia. And what about you, sugar?”

The way he drawled over the endearment sugar made it sound naughty and decadent in the same breath. “Denver.”

“And tell me, beautiful Willa. Are you here by yourself? Or do I have to go take care of the poor schmuck you’re with so I can have you all to myself?”

Shock had her lifting her gaze from where they’d been trained on his thick muscular thighs, straining his dark gray slacks.Holy shit!

Hewasflirting with her. Willa didn’t know what surprised her more, that he was flirting with her or how much she enjoyed his attention. When would she ever have a man who looked like him hit on her? Even at her lifestyle club, she was often passed over.

Breathless, she responded, “Yes, I’m all by my lonesome. I’m here for the romance writers’ conference. But there’s no one waiting for me back home either. And you?”

Willa wanted to applaud her ability to string words together in a cohesive fashion. A considerable feat when, internally, she was freaking out. Sirens blaring, lights flashing, smoke from the flames engulfing her sex choking her type of cataclysmic meltdown.

A slow, seductive grin spread over his face, turning him jaw-droppingly sexy. “That’s good to hear, Willa. We seem to be in luck. I’m single and here alone too. Or I was until you sat down.” He moved one of his feet to her barstool, boxing her legs in between his so their knees touched before he continued, “I’m in Houston because I’m the catcher for the Philadelphia Flashes in the Championship Series.”

---