Page 5 of Manhattan Secret

Picturing myself sucking the side of her neck she exposes with a tiny tilt to the left, I move in, resting an arm to the bar and she turns around with big, doleful blue eyes, the aquamarine kind of blue, like the bottom of the Caribbean.

She doesn’t smile, doesn’t immediately go into flirt mode as chicks do with a bit of attention and that just hypes me up even more to get her.

I grin a closed lipped smile.

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Hell yeah, you can help me, babe. Try opening my zipper and let’s see where we go from there.

Four little words and she has me turned inside out already. When is the last time I felt this level of attraction to a woman this quickly, without any provocation whatsoever? A while, I reckon.

Her face might be unreadable, without a smile touching those perfect, suckable lips, but her eyes… Oh, those beauties roam over me like she’s mapping my every muscle and bone for her little hobby book.

I can’t help smirking a little, pleased as her eyes come back to my face. She doesn’t blush, or appear embarrassed, in fact she directs her left eyebrow up near her hairline as I stand there gulping her in.

“You looked lonely over here by yourself. Are you waiting on someone?” Her boyfriend is about to be disappointed when he arrives to find her gone.

“No, I’m here alone.”

Her voice, smooth as an aged whiskey tears through me. It’s not a sweet voice to go with her mousy demeanor, but the voice of a woman who knows stuff.

I internally shudder and lean in a little more to see the flecks in her eyes.

Then you add in that sinful voice coming out of the too-perfect lips, it’s game over, Lachie down.

Any other time I might have played the flirting game for a few hours, offered to buy her drinks, take her out for dinner.

But I see we’re beyond that.

Within seconds of her eye-fucking me, her breathing shallows, I watch her fingers rim the edge of her glass even as she tries to ignore me standing so close. Ifeelthe pulse hammering in her long neck exposed right there for my mouth.

This woman is feeling me.

And I want to howl at the moon.

Need pounds through me like a current of electricity.

When I lean in an inch more, she inhales a breath and turns her head to pierce me with the ocean. She even smells like the sea. Clean and salty, dangerous and my lungs savour the fragrance. “You are absolutely stunning,” I share.

No reaction, other than a slow blink and then I’m hit with a dilemma, is she drunk? I feel my hopes and filthy dreams being shattered as I reach forward, taking the glass from her, downing a hard gulp—only to discover I’m right. Sparkling lemon water.

I half grin with relief, handing it back even as she stares at me with a mix of hunger and accusatory bluster for daring to take a sip of her drink.

Nudging her shoulder with my chin, I tell her. “I wanna take you somewhere and get you naked.”

Yeah, I said it.

Honesty is always the best policy.

You get nowhere unless you ask for what you want.

The flash of hotness in her eyes nearly buckles my knees, I’m so hard and we’ve hardly exchanged a word yet. Her eyes speak volumes and I’m listening real damn hard.

Little brown mouse, breathing slightly more rapid now, tucks her hair behind her ear, once…twice and again as if nervous, all the while she watches me in silence.

No annoying giggle.

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