“Something else?”
“You’ll see.”
Oh, I did not like the sound of this. I knew it. I fucking knew it — fuck, I should have just taken my chances at The Starlight.
“Cass, don’t look at me like that. I just need to find someone, and then I’m all yours.”
“Someone?”
“I promise I won’t be long.”
“Lola, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you’re leaving me.”
“You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can handle being alone for five minutes.”
She winks.
She fucking winks — and then disappears into the sea of bodies, swallowed whole by the rhythm and the heat.
Fucking perfect. My eyes scan the area. A sea of bodies eager to get their next drink cram the bar, and I’m standing here near the bar, stiff, looking like a spare part, when the sea parts and — fuck.
At first, it’s just a shape in the haze — tall, broad, cut from stone — a shadow at the edge of the bar like he doesn’t belong to this world, like the room wasn’t built to hold someone like him.
But then he turns.
And holy fuck.
Every cell in my body forgets how to function. My lungs stop. My blood stutters. My soul tries to climb out of my skin just to get closer.
He’s tall — like too tall, the kind of tall that makes you want to climb him just to see how far you can fall. His shoulders stretch the seams of his military uniform, taut with power, like he could kill a man with the flick of his wrist and not even flinch doing it.
Short, dark hair. Faded buzz cut. Feral jawline. A scar just beneath his lip that makes me want to ask how he got it while I trace it with my tongue.
And his eyes. God, his eyes.
They’re the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen.
Not sky blue.
Not baby blue.
Ocean blue — the kind that drowns you without warning.
Deep.
Cold.
Endless.
Eyes that look straight through you like they’ve already seen the worst parts of you and decided to stay anyway.
He doesn’t look at me yet — thank God — because if he did, I’d probably combust on the spot. I’d disintegrate. Melt into the fucking floor.
Tattoos curl under his sleeves, teasing the skin just above his veins — thick, ropey forearms that make me want to misbehave. Make me want to touch. Bite. Kneel.
Everything about him screams danger and discipline — lethal, commanding, untouchable.
And all I want is to be touched.
