Just those dark eyes. Those dark eyes I knew far too well. Those dark eyes that mirrored mine.
One hand rested on the table. The other rotated a toothpick between his teeth. His mouth was slightly ajar. His attention was undivided.
Slowly, I placed one foot in front of the other. The magnetism was invigorating. I was unable to disrupt the motion of my body as I floated toward the source of the current.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
As if it was on the loudspeakers around the restaurant, my heart beat loudly in my ears. My hands tightened around my briefcase as I watched the lengthy man stand on his feet. He moved around his chair, pushing it in slightly to make more room for himself.
For his ego.
For his pride.
For his masculinity.
For his politeness.
For his haughtiness.
My fingertips danced in the air, awaiting his touch. He extended both hands. Taking my right hand into his left and covering it with his right. An indication of endearment.
“Mr. Grayson.”
My chest collided into his. Naturally, as if it had happened a hundred times over, my left hand slid up his shoulder and around his neck, pulling him closer.
Fuck.
My body’s response to his presence was displeasing. My lack of control was repulsive.
Divine.
I inhaled, programming his scent in my head. My heart wanted parts, too.
I can’t.
Pulling away posed an issue. Ishmael held me near, refusing to release me from his grasp. His hand lowered onto my back, keeping a safe distance from my treasured parts. My eyes were growing tired of the constant exercise. I’d closed them more in the last twenty-four hours than I had in the months leading up to this moment.
His chest was firm. His gym regime was apparent. So was his hygiene. His cleanliness reminded me why he felt so heavenly.
Ishmael.
His mother was no fool in naming her son. She understood his power. His future was written before Mercer dialed my number. My presence was only to ensure his journey was as seamless as possible.
Mayor Grayson.
Another unsuccessful attempt to pull away forced me to submit, acknowledging Ishmael’s leadership. Establishing my trust.
In him.
The handsome stranger.
“Don’t ever wear this to work again, Royce. I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
