PROLOGUE
Hunter
Ifinally knew what obsession felt, looked, and smelled like.
It felt like a constant thrum pulsing in my ribcage, growing in rhythm and noise whensheentered my vicinity until the only sound rushing through my ears was that of my pounding heart.
It looked like blue eyes, sultry lips, red-wine-coloured hair, and a hot little body donned in a revealing dress that made her pale skin gleam like moonlight against the sensual black satin.
And it smelled divine—like warm vanilla and red roses. A mouth-watering scent that did nothing but fuel my desire to taste her flavour on my tongue.
My obsession was named Gabriela Regina Bellafiore, and she was currently ruining my goddamn peace of mind, dancing in the middle of the crowded university party with a drink in her hand, a lack of inhibitions, and the gazes of every red-blooded male within a ten-foot radius devouring her.
Tucked in the shadowed corner of the room, I took a pull of my drink, my eyes drawn to her gyrating frame like a moth to a flame. Everything about her—the roll of her hips, the fingers running through her hair, the come-hither smiles flashing on her lips—was sin personified. Like a fallen angel exiled from the heavens, now roaming the Earth and tormenting every man and woman with her seductive aura.
Every delineation on her person had been crafted to sheer magnificence, as though she were amongst the crème de la crème. Those upturned eyes set in a doll-like face, with round cheeks and plush, pillowy lips that you could lick, suck, and biteto your heart’s content. That long, luscious hair that could be wrapped around your fist twice cascading down her back. And that petite but sculpted body, with hourglass curves meant to bring one to their knees.
Gabriela was so effortlessly beautiful. It was unreal.
Growing up, I’d harboured an extensive fascination with Greek myths and their various characters—gods, muses, titans—consuming the lore as my preferred choice of literature, alongside the classics. And as a kid, I’d had the tendency to associate some of the people in my life with these mythological personalities.
Watching Gabriela move on the dance floor, surrounded by a slew of jock fanboys and appearing like a beacon of light amongst them, the lights wreathing above her head like a halo, I finally came to my conclusion.
She reminded me of Nike. The goddess of victory.
Revered and worshipped by athletes like myself.
If given the chance, I’d worship at her temple and be a lifelong devotee.
I knew I should peel my gaze away from Gabriela. But I couldn’t.
Looking at her hurt. Looking away from her hurt more.
“What are you staring at?”
My jaw clenched and I removed my eyes from Gabriela’s form when Shaun, one of my good friends, unexpectedly sidled up beside me, a red Solo cup cradled in his hand. I met him over a year ago—before our freshman year—and we quickly struck up a friendship. Now he was the captain of Vesta University’s hockey team, while I was the quarterback of the football team.
“Nothing.”
He cracked a smirk. “You checking out Gabby?”
Kind of hard not to when she was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
“And you’re annoying,” I retorted, though my lips twitched in amusement.
Shaun was one of those rare individuals who were selfless. If he was friends with you, he’d always have your back no matter what. An overall stellar guy, really, when he wasn’t ribbing me about Gabriela.
“You should finally make a move on her,” he encouraged. “Or you’ll regret letting her slip through your fingers.”
I wondered if he was spewing wisdom from personal experience.
The truth was I first saw Gabriela four hundred and seventeen days ago at my best friend Josh’s birthday party in the summer. She’d sauntered into the place, confidence and charm abutting her frame. And when our gazes connected amongst the crowd for mere seconds…time slowed. Every breath, every heartbeat, every sense felt sharpened and magnified.
I remembered thinking to myself if the word perfection had a face, body, and demeanour, she was it.
Gabriela then proceeded to break eye contact and chat with my other friends without sparing me another glance. Like I was inconsequential. A fleeting moment in time she’d never remember again.
