Читать книгу Obsession - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 12

7

As my eyes made contact with the sexy stranger’s, the corners of his mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles. It wasn’t a polite smile, but the kind that seemed to say I want you.

My heart fluttered as I returned his smile. Then I elbowed Marnie. “I think I’m in business. Over there. The guy with the dark hair hanging past his shoulders.”

“Ooh, the one who looks a bit like Antonio Banderas? I didn’t know you were into Spanish guys.”

Now that Marnie mentioned it, yes, he did look a bit like Antonio Banderas, but with slightly darker skin. He looked black, but mixed with another race. Maybe white. Maybe Hispanic. All that mattered to me was that he was hot, and that he was the first guy I’d had a connection with tonight.

“I haven’t been into any guy besides my husband,” I pointed out.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention the word ‘husband’ when that guy gets here. Cuz honey, with the way he’s looking at you, you know he’ll be here any second.”

I met the man’s gaze again. Even though he was about twenty feet away, I could see the lust simmering in his eyes.

Lust for me.

That reality turned me on.

I swallowed, knowing that I was feeling the same lust. This was the connection I’d been hoping to find. Something instantaneous, and electric.

And yet, this was foreign territory. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel sexual attraction for another man in the past ten years.

The man started toward me, and my heart thundered in my chest. The very fact that I hadn’t been with another man in ten years suddenly got to me, making me nervous. Would my heart really let me go through with this, even though my brain said I should?

“Shit, Marnie. He’s heading over here. What do I say? Maybe having an affair is really a crazy idea.”

“You say hi,” Marnie told me, and gave me a little shove.

I stumbled slightly into the man’s path, feeling like an idiot as I did so. I shot an annoyed look over my shoulder at Marnie, who gave me a false apologetic look.

Then I drew in a breath and turned back to the man.

“Hello,” he said. He had some sort of accent. Maybe Marnie was right and he was Spanish.

“Hi,” I responded. “How are you tonight?” Duh! Couldn’t I have thought of something more intriguing to say?

He chuckled softly. “I’m well. And you?”

“Oh, I’m feeling pretty good.” Okay, I had to stop drinking. I sounded like an idiot.

The man’s eyes roamed over me from head to toe, and I got the feeling that no matter how foolish I sounded, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You are very beautiful,” he said simply. But his eyes said he wanted to have me for dessert.

“Thank you.”

“May I buy you another drink?”

“Oh, no.” I waved off the suggestion. “I think I’ve had enough.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, maybe one more wouldn’t hurt,” I said, backtracking. My nerves had me babbling. That, and the realization that if I was actually going to have an affair, I could use some more liquid courage.

“Strawberry margarita?” he asked.

“How did you know that?”

“I noticed,” he replied, making me wonder if he’d been watching me for longer than I’d realized, orif he’d simply made a lucky guess.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and started for the bar.

I watched him go, butterflies dancing up a storm in my stomach. He was sexy, no doubt about it. He also had a mysterious quality about him. Something that was a little dark.

And a lot tempting.

“Girl, if you don’t like him,” Marnie said into my ear.

“I do,” I responded. “He looks like exactly what I need. Very different from Andrew.” Which was important. I didn’t want to fuck a guy who would have me thinking about my husband. I wanted someone different. A guy who didn’t wear a suit and tie every day. A guy who looked like he had a bit of a bad boy in him.

That was the man who wore a devilish grin as he approached me carrying two frosty drinks. He wore black jeans and a white shirt that was unbuttoned to the mid part of his chest. He had no chest hair that I could see, but perhaps closer to his navel…

“One drink for you,” he said, handing one to me. “And one for your friend.”

“Why thank you,” Marnie said, accepting the drink.

“Yes, thank you,” I echoed. And it was nice of him to buy a drink for Marnie. It was a small thing, but the last time I’d been out with Marnie and Andrew, Andrew had asked Marnie for cash before heading to the bar to buy her drink. I’d been embarrassed that he couldn’t fork out the cash to buy a drink for my friend.

Andrew could be very frugal—and not just where Marnie was concerned. He said it was because we were saving for a family. I understood the argument but missed the romantic gestures of our early days. He no longer did spontaneous romantic things like send me flowers on occasion or surprise me with my favorite perfume.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Sophie,” I replied. “Yours?”

“Pietro. But you can call me Peter.”

“Pietro? What is that?”

“Italian,” he responded.

“Aww. I guess that means you’re Italian.” Brilliant deduction, Sophie. I sipped the margarita, though I clearly didn’t need it.

He nodded. “And you are stunning. I’m sorry if I can’t stop staring at you. I’ve simply never met a woman more beautiful.”

I’d been married for eight years, and out of the game, as Marnie had said. But I still knew a line when I heard one. And yet, my vagina throbbed at the compliment nonetheless. It was the way he was looking at me that had me believing everything he said. His eyes had an intensity that was both unnerving and thrilling. I had the feeling that he could look inside my mind and see everything I was thinking.

Everything I wanted.

“To be exact, I am part African, part Italian.”

“And part hot,” I blurted out, then laughed at my uncharacteristic boldness.

He reached for my hand. I let him hold it. “You’re not shy, are you?”

“What I am is a little drunk.” I swayed slightly, proving my point. “Say something to me in Italian. Anything.”

“Tu guardi bella.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, impressed. “What does it mean?”

“It means you look beautiful.”

Peter’s eyes were steadfast on mine. The heat in his gaze literally warmed my skin.

“Are you married?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed as I looked up at Peter. “Why would you ask that?”

He ran the pad of his thumb over the base of my bare ring finger. “You used to wear a ring there. Am I right?”

I laughed nervously. “Are you psychic?”

“No. I’m interested.”

Peter got to the point in a way I liked—a lot. I sipped some of my drink. “Thank you for the drink.”

“You said that already.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Peter leaned his lips close to my ear, so close they almost touched my skin. “Did he hurt you—your husband?”

Was he particularly astute, or did every betrayed woman out on the town act the way I was, to the point where it was a cliché?

“Did he?” Peter repeated.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want a commitment with this man. Only a night of delicious sex. “Yes, he hurt me,” I said, answering honestly. “But I’m out tonight because I want to forget all about that.”

“I can help you forget.”

From any other man, I would consider this conversation extremely forward. But perhaps Peter had known just by looking at me that I would welcome his advances.

That I needed him to make the first move.

“Yes,” I agreed. “I suppose you can.”

During our conversation, we’d been mildly moving our bodies to the music. Now, Peter wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. Though a fast song was playing, he gyrated his hips against mine—slowly. His erection left nothing to the imagination.

I matched his movements, my own slow and seductive. I wasn’t thinking, only feeling, and this felt right.

Balancing the drink in my hand, I turned so that my ass was now against Peter’s cock. I shook my ass against him, and grinned when a primal groan escaped his throat.

My drink was in the way. I took a few steps to a nearby table and plopped it down. Then I danced my way back to Peter, my hands in the air, my hips moving left to right.

He met me, and together we danced, this time keeping up with the fast rhythm. His fingers moved up and down my arms, leaving delicious sensations in their wake. He stroked my face, dipped his mouth close to mine. Pulled his face away without kissing me.

So the man was a tease.

I stroked his chest through his shirt, then with the tip of one finger dared to touch his exposed skin. I let my other hand wander lower, and Peter’s eyes widened in both surprise and expectation. I pulled my hand away before it reached his groin.

Peter laughed, slipped his hands around my waist. “I want to take you home.”

“I want you to take me home,” I replied.

Everything was easy between us. Easy and electric. I’d even forgotten all about Marnie while flirting with Peter on the dance floor. I glanced around, but didn’t see her.

The band was back onstage, preparing for their next set. “This is a good time to leave,” Peter said.

“I’m just looking for my friend,” I said. “Will you excuse me for a minute?”

Peter nodded. “Of course.”

I looked around the club but didn’t see Marnie anywhere. I found myself strolling toward the restrooms.

It was crowded inside, but I spotted Marnie immediately. She was in front of a mirror at the far end of the restroom.

I made my way over to her, and her face lit up when she saw me. “Hey, girl!”

“Everything okay?” I asked.

She planted a hand on a hip. “Girl, you missed the drama.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “What happened?”

“Some asshole made a play for me. You remember the guy with the gold teeth?”

“What did he do?”

Marnie applied face powder. “Stuck his hand down my top.”

“What?” I asked, outraged.

“It’s okay. I told him if he ever touched me again, I’d break all his fingers one by one.”

I smiled. My friend had balls bigger than most guys’.

“Then Walt and Denny came over and gave the guy a talking- to. Told him he needed to learn to respect women.”

“Hold up,” I said. “Walt and Denny?”

Marnie rested her hip against the sink as she faced me. “The two older guys who were checking us out.”

“Wait a minute—the ones you were making fun of for being old? Now you’re on a first-name basis with them?”

Marnie produced her lipstick from her purse. “Actually, they’re very sweet. And Denny—the taller one—is quite something on the dance floor. We’re having a good time.”

I shook my head, but I was grinning.

“A platonic time, of course,” Marnie stressed. “Walt and Denny are nothing like the hottie who’s all over you.” Marnie paused, pressed her lips together to even out her lipstick. “It looks like everything is going very well with him.”

“He said he wants to take me home.”

“When are you leaving?”

I hesitated. In the heat of the moment, I’d been ready to leave with Peter. But now that I was talking with Marnie, I was suddenly having doubts.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” I said. “I don’t have a car, which means I’d have to leave with him…and is that smart?”

“You’re considering fucking him but you don’t want to leave with him?”

“Not so loud, please,” I whispered, glancing around. The other women were either applying makeup or hanging around chatting. Women’s restrooms were about so much more than using the toilets.

“You don’t think he’s a creep, do you?”

“No,” I answered easily. “But you know, I haven’t done this, like ever. I want to be smart.”

Marnie nodded. “Okay, the way I see it, you have a couple options. One—there’s the Hard Rock Hotel across the way. You can spend the night there. Or, I can drive you to this guy’s place. Just make sure to casually slip in that your friend is a cop. That should do the trick.”

“I like the hotel idea.” This was only going to be a one-night stand, not the start of forever. We could fuck each other, then leave in the morning and never have to see each other again.

“You have money for a cab?” Marnie asked.

“Yes, I’ve got cash.” I always had a good amount of money in my wallet. Andrew had drummed into my head the necessity of having cash on hand in case of an emergency.

Marnie put her makeup back into her purse and snapped it shut. “I’ll drive you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I had a couple tall glasses of water and now my buzz is gone. I’m good to go.”

“What about Walt and Denny?” I asked.

Marnie laughed. “I think they’ll be fine without me.”

We exited the bathroom. I glanced around, but didn’t see Peter anywhere. I frowned. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s got to be around somewhere,” Marnie said.

“You know what—let’s just go.”

“What?”

“He’s not here…maybe that’s a sign.”

“But he could be in the rest—”

“I’ve made up my mind.” I wrapped my fingers around Marnie’s forearm and steered her toward the club’s exit. Now that Peter was nowhere to be found, I was taking the chicken’s way out.

“Oh, all right.” Marnie sounded disappointed.

“I thought I was ready, but…” My voice trailed off. But what? Why was I running?

The answer came to me in the next instant. I was running because I was afraid of the intense reaction I was having to Peter. How easily a man who wasn’t my husband turned me on and made me want to get naked.

A man who was a stranger.

When we stepped outside, the air was warm and moist, but far more refreshing than the sweat-filled air in the club. My head swayed a little, reminding me that I’d had too much to drink. Marnie offered me her arm, and we began to walk.

We strolled past the various clubs along CityWalk, passing giggling groups of young women in skimpy clothes. Their night was just beginning, while I was headed home.

Sexually frustrated.

“Sophie!”

Marnie stopped abruptly. Her face lit up. “Did you hear that?”

I did, and my stomach jumped. Slowly, I turned, secretly excited that Peter had followed me out.

But when I saw who’d called me, my stomach jumped again— this time from fear.