What's Left of Me
Page 7
Walking away from the table, I head toward the bathroom, which just happens to take me past Mr. Handsome himself.
I don’t really have to use the bathroom. I just needed an excuse to get away from Mr. Handsome and those beautiful eyes before I do something stupid like walk over there and straddle him at the bar. What I need is to splash some water on my face and catch my breath.
Not looking his way, I turn the corner, but I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.
I’ve never—I repeat, never—picked a guy up at a bar. I wouldn’t even know the first thing about picking someone up. Am I supposed to cite some lame cheesy pick-up line? Excuse me, I’m a little short on cash. Would you mind if we shared a cab home together? Or take the bold and direct approach and just straight up ask for his number? I’m clueless when it comes to the rules of this game.
I’m grateful when I reach the door to the ladies’ room, and there isn’t anyone around. I reach for the handle when I hear from behind me, “Not going to use the men’s room again?” I know that sexy voice.
Mr. Handsome.
With my heart racing, I turn around and smile sweetly. “No, I’m going to sit down and pee this time.” My smile widens, and I say a silent thanks to sweet baby Jesus for letting me find my voice this time.
He doesn’t respond. He just steps closer to me with the corner of his lips spreading upward.
I don’t breathe.
I can’t breathe. Not when he is this close.
God, he smells amazing. Like a mixture of spice and mint. Maybe a hint of beer too. It's the type of scent that would awaken a primal desire within any female, and good God, do I feel awakened.
“You ran off before I could thank you for the dance earlier.”
No, thank you.
His voice is a faint whisper, and his face is now so close that our noses are almost touching. I glance at his very attractive red lips just as the corners of his mouth move up into the most beautiful smile.
Shit. He knows I’m looking at his lips.
I’m transfixed by him, and all I can think about are those lips on mine. I would take him in this hallway. There, I said it.
Or, did I think it?
Do something.
Anything!
I look back at his lips.
I want to feel his lips against mine. I don’t care. I’ll say any cheesy pick-up line if it means I get to go home with him.
I know he’s watching me, and that he’s thinking about my lips because his tongue comes out, licking his own. I feel him close the distance between us. He puts a finger under my chin for the second time tonight, lifting my face so that I’m looking right into his eyes.
He speaks in a low, raspy whisper. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
Without waiting for permission, his lips crash down on mine. He takes my top lip into his mouth, tugging ever so gently. I let out a soft moan as his tongue lightly traces my lips, tasting me. I can smell the fresh mint and beer on his breath, and all I can think about is tasting it.
I grab his neck, bringing him closer, opening my mouth … inviting him in.
He groans as I wrap my arms around his neck, running my hands through his hair. Shit, if I die tomorrow, I can die a happy woman knowing this is my last kiss.
His tongue enters my mouth and I meet it with my own. He reaches down to lift me up and I let him. I wrap my legs around his waist just as he slams my back against the wall in the corner of the hallway. There’s a rush of pain that shoots down my legs, causing me to cry out. He must take that as a cry of pleasure because he kisses me harder.
My dress rises all the way to my waist, exposing me to anyone who walks by. My head falls back against the wall and he immediately starts kissing down my chin to my neck, then up to my earlobe, taking it in his mouth and biting down.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispers softly in my ear. I nod in agreement, afraid if I say anything it won’t be yes.
And I really want it to be yes.
Setting me down, he runs his hands over my dress, settling it back into place, then grabs my hand and starts speed walking toward the exit sign.
Chapter Three
Exiting the bar, he holds my hand and leads me around the corner and down the sidewalk. I’m afraid to look at him because maybe then he’ll realize he’s making a mistake and I don’t want him to second-guess himself. Hell, I don’t want to second-guess myself.
I quickly pull out my phone and text Jean, letting her know I didn’t get lost. I’m not worried what she’ll think because she was the one encouraging this.
Me: Left with Mr. Handsome. See you in the am.
About ten seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Jean: WHAT!!?!? Details tomorrow!
Shaking my head, I put my phone back into my purse.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I just told my friend that I left.”
He doesn’t say anything, just a slight head nod of understanding.
Aside from the sound of my heels on the pavement, and his fingers twirling the keys in his hand, we walk in silence, enjoying the warm night breeze. Summers in Minnesota are so beautiful. It’s a shame they don’t last long.
I wonder if I’m insane for leaving a bar with a man whose name I don’t even know.
“I only live about five minutes from here.” Pointing his fingers ahead, he adds, “Just up a block, then down two.”
I smile up at him. Looking down at our locked hands, I wonder if I should say something, but I don’t know what to say, or what to do. Maybe I should ask his name? That might be good. A little icebreaker. Fuck, why is this so difficult? I’m just making this more awkward. I decide it’s better if I don’t speak.
I don’t really have to use the bathroom. I just needed an excuse to get away from Mr. Handsome and those beautiful eyes before I do something stupid like walk over there and straddle him at the bar. What I need is to splash some water on my face and catch my breath.
Not looking his way, I turn the corner, but I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.
I’ve never—I repeat, never—picked a guy up at a bar. I wouldn’t even know the first thing about picking someone up. Am I supposed to cite some lame cheesy pick-up line? Excuse me, I’m a little short on cash. Would you mind if we shared a cab home together? Or take the bold and direct approach and just straight up ask for his number? I’m clueless when it comes to the rules of this game.
I’m grateful when I reach the door to the ladies’ room, and there isn’t anyone around. I reach for the handle when I hear from behind me, “Not going to use the men’s room again?” I know that sexy voice.
Mr. Handsome.
With my heart racing, I turn around and smile sweetly. “No, I’m going to sit down and pee this time.” My smile widens, and I say a silent thanks to sweet baby Jesus for letting me find my voice this time.
He doesn’t respond. He just steps closer to me with the corner of his lips spreading upward.
I don’t breathe.
I can’t breathe. Not when he is this close.
God, he smells amazing. Like a mixture of spice and mint. Maybe a hint of beer too. It's the type of scent that would awaken a primal desire within any female, and good God, do I feel awakened.
“You ran off before I could thank you for the dance earlier.”
No, thank you.
His voice is a faint whisper, and his face is now so close that our noses are almost touching. I glance at his very attractive red lips just as the corners of his mouth move up into the most beautiful smile.
Shit. He knows I’m looking at his lips.
I’m transfixed by him, and all I can think about are those lips on mine. I would take him in this hallway. There, I said it.
Or, did I think it?
Do something.
Anything!
I look back at his lips.
I want to feel his lips against mine. I don’t care. I’ll say any cheesy pick-up line if it means I get to go home with him.
I know he’s watching me, and that he’s thinking about my lips because his tongue comes out, licking his own. I feel him close the distance between us. He puts a finger under my chin for the second time tonight, lifting my face so that I’m looking right into his eyes.
He speaks in a low, raspy whisper. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
Without waiting for permission, his lips crash down on mine. He takes my top lip into his mouth, tugging ever so gently. I let out a soft moan as his tongue lightly traces my lips, tasting me. I can smell the fresh mint and beer on his breath, and all I can think about is tasting it.
I grab his neck, bringing him closer, opening my mouth … inviting him in.
He groans as I wrap my arms around his neck, running my hands through his hair. Shit, if I die tomorrow, I can die a happy woman knowing this is my last kiss.
His tongue enters my mouth and I meet it with my own. He reaches down to lift me up and I let him. I wrap my legs around his waist just as he slams my back against the wall in the corner of the hallway. There’s a rush of pain that shoots down my legs, causing me to cry out. He must take that as a cry of pleasure because he kisses me harder.
My dress rises all the way to my waist, exposing me to anyone who walks by. My head falls back against the wall and he immediately starts kissing down my chin to my neck, then up to my earlobe, taking it in his mouth and biting down.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispers softly in my ear. I nod in agreement, afraid if I say anything it won’t be yes.
And I really want it to be yes.
Setting me down, he runs his hands over my dress, settling it back into place, then grabs my hand and starts speed walking toward the exit sign.
Chapter Three
Exiting the bar, he holds my hand and leads me around the corner and down the sidewalk. I’m afraid to look at him because maybe then he’ll realize he’s making a mistake and I don’t want him to second-guess himself. Hell, I don’t want to second-guess myself.
I quickly pull out my phone and text Jean, letting her know I didn’t get lost. I’m not worried what she’ll think because she was the one encouraging this.
Me: Left with Mr. Handsome. See you in the am.
About ten seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Jean: WHAT!!?!? Details tomorrow!
Shaking my head, I put my phone back into my purse.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I just told my friend that I left.”
He doesn’t say anything, just a slight head nod of understanding.
Aside from the sound of my heels on the pavement, and his fingers twirling the keys in his hand, we walk in silence, enjoying the warm night breeze. Summers in Minnesota are so beautiful. It’s a shame they don’t last long.
I wonder if I’m insane for leaving a bar with a man whose name I don’t even know.
“I only live about five minutes from here.” Pointing his fingers ahead, he adds, “Just up a block, then down two.”
I smile up at him. Looking down at our locked hands, I wonder if I should say something, but I don’t know what to say, or what to do. Maybe I should ask his name? That might be good. A little icebreaker. Fuck, why is this so difficult? I’m just making this more awkward. I decide it’s better if I don’t speak.
