Chapter 3
Noah wasn’t sure which part of the woman standing across the bar captivated him the most.
All he knew was that he was staring, a stunned shudder charging through his body at the combination of assets.
Jesus, whoever had put her together had done one helluva job.
She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but her face was captivating enough, with a touch of rebellion that intrigued him, to put her in a sphere of her own.
Dark reddish-blonde hair had been pulled over to one side of her face in a careless tumbling heap that reached the middle of her back.
From this distance, he couldn’t see the exact color of her eyes, but her makeup gave them a smoky and hypnotic allure.
Long lashes quivered with the need to blink.
She denied that need and maintained bold eye contact.
There was something daring yet innocent in the way she stared at him that made his cock stiffen. Or, hell, it may have been because she had one of the most sinful mouths he’d ever seen. Plump, wide, and painted suck-me red, it was so damned potently sexy, he forgot his own name for several seconds.
He’d spotted her the moment she’d walked in behind the blond guy who looked like he wanted to devour her whole.
With her attention caught by the spectacular ceiling display of the Ozone Bar, Noah had taken a moment to study her, his drink frozen halfway to his mouth.
Her side crop, shaved in a swathe that exposed the delicate shell of her left ear, had surprised him. There was something bold and declaratory about it, but also sexy, in a way that made Noah, who had never given much thought to such things, stop to appreciate the sexiness of it.
He’d watch her stumble. Watch the valet catch her and crack a joke. Her smile had made liquid go down the wrong way. Noah had barely stopped himself from coughing up his lungs and wheezing like a frickin’ hormonal teenager.
He stared some more, a part of him silently terrified that if he blinked, she would disappear.
To think he’d almost given up finding someone to take the edge off his hunger.
He’d intended to finish his whiskey and return to his suite.
Alone. Because of the six single female guests he’d met in the bar so far, none even came close to tweaking his interest. The thought of settling on a willing female just to get himself off had made bile rise in his gut.
But now…
Jesus , when was the last time he’d felt this excited just looking at a woman?
A woman who returned his stare without turning away, as mesmerized with him as he was with her. A look that portrayed nothing but naked interest.
He discarded the glass and approached her.
She raised her glass of champagne a fraction, as if to take a sip.
Or it may have been a tiny toast to what was happening between them.
It paused just below her lips, drawing his attention again to the fullness of her glossy mouth.
The corners tilted upward in a saucy curve that just begged to be tasted, and his breath fractured as he imagined doing just that and a whole lot more.
Need pounded through him as he rounded the bar. Vaguely, he saw her valet’s gaze swing toward him and back to her.
A dark emotion fizzed through his veins at the thought of the other man laying any sort of claim on her. “Excuse us,” he said, without taking his eyes from hers.
The blond guy cleared his throat. “Umm, sure. Have a good evening, Miss Michaels.”
Irrationally, the thought that this guy knew her name and Noah didn’t irritated the hell out of him. Noah compelled her not to look at the other guy. Not to look at anyone but him.
Her lips parted, but no words emerged. His irritation abated a little when the valet took the hint and walked away. Her scent drifted in to Noah, a mixture of crushed lilies and designer perfume. He breathed in deep and felt his pulse thunder.
He closed the gap between them until he could see the color of her eyes.
Grey, with a touch of blue. So wide. So alluring. He’d always thought that only soppy morons confessed to wanting to get lost in a woman’s eyes.
Hell, he wanted to die in her eyes.
The DJ upped the tempo of the music. She jerked and swallowed, awareness of her surroundings suddenly swimming into her eyes, threatening to break the moment. Her lids started to lower.
The sense of impending loss hit him hard. “Don’t look away.”
She blinked and shook her head. Swathes of hair fell over her arms, caressing her bare golden skin. “I’m sorry. It’s not polite of me to stare like this.”
Her voice was low, husky with emotions slamming around inside her.
The same emotions that were roaring through his bloodstream.
He didn’t need to close his eyes to hear that voice, imagine that mouth hovering over his skin, kissing him in places that made his cock throb to life.
His brain was firing up scenarios just from the sound of her voice alone.
Scenarios that pleased and frightened him at the same time.
“Why not? Stare all you want because I sure as hell am not about to apologize for staring at you.”
Her cute nose twitched, and he could’ve sworn she leaned in a tiny bit closer. Hell, he might have been deluding himself, but he liked to think she did.
“Perhaps I have better manners than you,” she said, without looking away.
“I wouldn’t wholly disagree with you on that. But as much as it would shame my mother to know I was being rude to a lady, I can’t seem to help myself.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks, and Noah barely stopped himself from groaning.
Her long, dark-painted fingers clutched her glass firmer.
He flicked his gaze back to her face. He didn’t want to dwell on what damage those nails could do to his back.
His butt. He didn’t want to think about them leaving marks all over his body. Not just yet.
She continued to watch him with that mixture of intrigue and hunger that made his pulse race. God, did she even know what she was doing? How she was stoking fires he was terrified to let roar to life?
“Well, since there’s nothing wrong with just looking…” she murmured.
“And we have each other’s permission? Just to be polite, of course,” he pressed. Not that he intended to let the lack of it stop him. His senses were intent on visually devouring this woman. The actual devouring would come later.
Her eyes widened a fraction. “Yes, I guess…”
“Well, okay then.” Taking his time, he dropped his gaze to her mouth and let it linger.
He wanted to savor the journey, imprint each of her features on his excited senses so he could visualize them later.
When several images of what he could do to her mouth flashed through his brain in quick succession, Noah deemed it wise to move on.
His gaze slid down to her throat. Her skin glowed like warm silk—as if she spent time in the sun. Would she have tan lines, or did she indulge in the ultimate sun worship?
Move on before you make an idiot of yourself, King.
Her sleeveless white lace top stretched across her breasts, emphasizing the delicious mounds.
Small pert tits.
He filed that observation away, travelled lower and froze.
Dear God, she was wearing leather. Skintight leather that lovingly molded her hips, lean thighs and calves.
His gaze reached her heeled feet and traced a path back up her body. The second run was even better than the first.
Small breasts and leather. Two of his major weaknesses.
The throbbing, which had started in his groin the moment he’d laid eyes on her, roared into a bona fide pounding.
Through the loudspeaker, the pop version of John Legend’s “All of Me” filled the room.
Noah looked back up in time to see her conducting a blatant survey of her own. Her gaze travelled from his face to his chest, abs and all the way to his feet. Then back up.
She lingered on his crotch. Her cheeks reddened a little more at the blatant evidence of his arousal, but she didn’t move her gaze. That little nose twitched again, and a puff of breath left her lips.
This time, he couldn’t stop the rough sound that burst through his throat.
He plucked the glass from her fingers and set it on the counter. His fingers brushed hers in the process, and she jerked.
“You’re being rude again.”
Noah shrugged. “You didn’t seem all that interested in the drink. Besides, it’s more cool than chilled right now, and champagne should be enjoyed immediately or the joy goes out of it.”
Jesus , was he really standing here discussing the perfect drinking temperature of champagne like some snooty etiquette junkie? His ex had been the one who’d concerned herself with social bullshit like that.
“I’m sure I had another five minutes before it went flat.” She looked at the glass but made no move to pick it up.
Legend crooned about curves and edges . Noah struggled not to check out her curves just one more time.
“Dance with me,” he said abruptly.
What the hell? He hated dancing. Hadn’t come remotely close to a dance floor since senior prom. And that had been because he’d wanted to soften Emily Bianchini up a little before he taught that cock-teasing princess a hard fucking—pun intended—lesson in the back of his hired limo.
But short of grabbing her delicate wrist and dragging her off to a dark corner to explore those incredible curves, dancing was his best solution.
He couldn’t stand this close and not touch.
Dancing gave him an excuse to touch. Because he had to put his hands on her…
Make sure that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. That she was real.
She shook her head. “I don’t dance. Sorry.” The apology was tacked on, almost as an afterthought.
He suppressed a smile. “Neither do I. But if we stand here any longer eyeballing one another, something will catch fire. And at thirty thousand feet, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
She laughed. He caught a flash of silver.
Noah was pretty sure his vision blurred for several seconds. His breath whistled through his teeth as his brain computed what he was seeing.
A stud.
She had a fucking tongue piercing. The idea of what that silver stud could do to his cock froze his thought processes, then blitzed anticipated pleasure though his already-roaring bloodstream.
When he refocused, she was staring straight at him, the laughter wiped from her face. Fresh hunger slammed into his gut then clenched tight in a vice as awareness blazed in her eyes.
“Dance,” he croaked.
“Yes.”
The dance floor was set in a larger circle around the room, making the bar the focal point. Several guests were in the “getting to know each other” phase, some a little further along than others.
One of the women he’d considered a possible candidate, a statuesque redhead with enough experience in her eyes to make any guy contemplate a session between the sheets with her, glanced his way. Her gaze swung to his companion, and she raised an eyebrow at him.
Noah ignored her. She wouldn’t have held his interest for more than a few hours.
Whereas the woman whose scent lingered in his nostrils…
He turned abruptly, already starved of the sight of her.
She was right behind him, her gaze seeking and finding his. Elation and deep anticipation roared through him. He stepped closer, ready to take her in his arms.
She raised a hand. “Wait.”
The imperious command wasn’t what made him freeze. It was the brief panic on her face.
What the hell?
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I will be. I just… I just need to initiate contact first. Do you mind?”
Shock slammed into him. Followed swiftly by the realization that a, he didn’t mind, and b, she wasn’t really asking him but telling him.
He’d need to address that when they entered the bedroom.
He nodded slowly, every atom in his body on edge and intrigued. “Go for it.”
She licked her lower lip and stepped close. Propriety would’ve dictated that she place her hand on his shoulder. Or his waist.
Instead, she splayed her fingers over his belly. His breath hissed as fire exploded from the point of her touch.
He stood rock still and let her fingers drift upward over his chest, between his pecs, and up the side of his neck. He had no idea what was going on here. But hell if he didn’t want to stand there and keep living it.
The sensation was tortuous. And exquisitely pleasurable in ways he hadn’t experienced for a very long time. If ever.
The song ended and a new equally suggestive song took its place. He grew harder as she continued to explore him. Her fingers grazed his shoulder and one forefinger drifted down the side of his neck.
Fuck.
“Honey, if we’re going to dance, we need to get on with it. Before I give in to the urge to eat you alive, right here, right now.”
His words plucked her from a dream-state. Eyes turned stormy met his, and Noah barely managed to suppress the impulse to bare his teeth in visible hunger at the need pounding through him.
She nodded and started to sway before him. He remained frozen, unable to take his eyes from her body as she sinuously moved.
Eventually, she noticed he wasn’t moving and raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to dance?”
“To do that I have to touch you. I’m going to touch you now.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Her finger caressed his neck again. He reached for her, his arms curving over her small waist to bring her closer. She felt warm, soft and firm in all the right places. But he wanted more.
“I’m going to pull you closer.” Like her, he wasn’t asking for permission.
“That’s… that’s fine.”
He tugged her into his body. She exhaled sharply, and her breath washed his neck. This close with her heels on, she came up to his chin. Without them she would be tiny.
The perfect, fuckable handful.
He tilted her face up with a finger. “Tell me your name.”
“It’s Leia. Leia Michaels.”
“I’m Noah King. Is there anything else I need to know about you before we get to the eating alive part? I’m especially interested in any steps I can skip, because I have a feeling I’ll need to get there quickly.”