Chewing on her lip, Emily tried to keep her panic at bay when she saw Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fuckable Handsome with Dillon. The air seemed to shift thick. Her balance was knocked askew with every step.
There’s no way they could possibly know each other. This is Manhattan for Christ’s sake, Emily thought to herself.
Each beat of her heart pounded harder the closer she got. A curious yet boyish smile rounded Gavin’s lips as a kiss of a dimple indented itself on his cheek. His piercing blue eyes were intense, unblinking in her direction. Emily’s gaze flicked down to his chest, the planes of his pectorals visible under his shirt. If it were possible, he looked even more handsome, relaxed in his casual attire of a black, V-neck T-shirt and jeans that hung perfectly on his waist. His eyes seemed to delve into her and smother every bit of oxygen from her lungs. Taking a long cleansing breath with sweat beading on her brow, Emily approached the two men, trying to focus solely on Dillon.
Dillon pulled her by the waist into his body and placed an exaggerated kiss on her lips.
After ordering her a drink, Dillon shifted her in front of him, positioning her back against his chest. She had center view of the stranger when Dillon finally spoke. “Gavin, this is my girlfriend, Emily Cooper. Emily, Gavin Blake.”
Unable to pull his eyes from hers, Gavin reached down tentatively, drawing her hand to his lips. Kissing it softly, he hesitated, almost absorbing the heat that radiated from her skin. Reluctantly, he finally let go. “The pleasure’s most definitely all mine, Emily.”
Inwardly marveling at the way Gavin’s slight stubble felt against her knuckles, Emily gave a curt nod and smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Dillon asked, looking over to Gavin.
Averting her gaze to the floor, Emily flushed, embarrassed by the comment. Nonetheless, she grinned, trying to regain her bearings from the shock coursing its way through her body.
Gavin’s gaze dropped to her mouth, her ruby red lips fascinating every fucking inch of him. He shifted his eyes back to hers, which were a variation of green melting into gold. Beautiful, he thought to himself.
Drawing his lower lip roughly through his teeth, Gavin let his words hang. “You’re a very lucky man, Dillon.”
Dillon nodded in agreement, tossing back the last of his whiskey on the rocks. “Come dance with me, babe.” He caught Emily by her hips and dragged her out to the dance floor.
Knowing she shouldn’t, Emily risked a glance back to Gavin as they walked away.
Gavin tried to maintain his cool when she peered over her shoulder to look back at him. He watched the way Dillon held her close and the irrefutable loving way she responded to him. He watched the way she stared into Dillon’s eyes, giving him her undivided attention. Ordering another beer, Gavin fought back the urge to walk onto the dance floor, knock his friend out, and pull her into his arms.
As if his mind couldn’t register anyone else in the club, Gavin brushed off countless women who approached him. He knew he was in uncharted territory and that his thoughts were irrational, considering Dillon was a close friend, but he felt as if Emily had a sick pull on him. These new unknown surges of emotions had him at odds with his body and mind.
And Gavin didn’t like it one bit.
Eventually, Dillon walked up to Gavin when Emily disappeared into the restroom. He leaned against the bar, a reverent smile breaking out across his face. “Wishing you were me, buddy?”
Gavin couldn’t help feeling a stab of jealousy, but this wasn’t something he was about to confess. “I’m just wondering how you pulled that one off.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement on Gavin’s part. Dillon usually hung with crowds of women that were far wilder than Emily seemed to be.
Dillon threw his head back and laughed as he ordered a shot of tequila. “You seem to think you’re the only god in this city.”
“I’m no god, Dillon, and you’re certainly not either,” Gavin remarked, propping his arm on the rolled leather edge of the bar. “But I do know that you need to take care of a woman like that.”
Dillon started flexing his hips back and forth. “Oh, I’m taking care of it. She has no complaints whatsoever in that department.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gavin snapped, trying to rid the thought from his mind. He then smoothed his voice out to a calmer tone. “Be good to her, seriously.”
Cocking his head to the side, Dillon furrowed his brows. “Since when did you become so worried about how I treat a woman Mr. Non-Commitment? You fuck anything that throws itself at you, and they’re lucky if they get a call the next day.”
“We’re not talking about me,” Gavin said, drawing a bottle of beer to his mouth. “Like I said, take care of her.”
“Gavin Blake’s trying to teach me how to treat a woman. This is hysterical.” He swallowed his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. “I’m marrying this one. You’ll see. Just to torture you, you’re going to be in the wedding party.” Dillon shook his head and laughed but recovered quickly as his expression tightened. “Like I said earlier, she’s mine. You get enough everywhere you go.”
Before Gavin could respond, Emily approached them.
Dillon handed her a beer, and she smiled. “Thanks. So what are you guys talking about?”
Gavin figured he would play a little game, considering he knew Dillon was taunting him. His eyes concentrated on the exact curve of Emily’s jaw before locking his eyes on hers. “I’m just wondering how my friend here landed such a beautiful woman. He’s obviously out of his league.”
Emily could feel the way Gavin stared at her. His eyes seemed to sink into her, making her want to bare every emotion and every secret.
What a dangerous talent for a man’s eyes to possess, she thought to herself.
She went to speak, but Dillon’s voice broke through the deafening level of music. “Fuck you and your comment. Out of my league?”
Gavin laughed mischievously as he casually sank into a seat at the bar. “Yes, very out of your league.”
A grin curled Dillon’s lips. “Whatever makes you sleep better tonight, man, but she’s the one leaving with me.” Dillon glanced down at an incoming text and then turned to Emily where she stood inwardly mortified at the conversation taking place. “Trevor’s on his way, babe. I need to use the restroom, but don’t let this clown fool you while I’m gone. He’s a player.”
He dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek and walked away.
Gavin watched Emily carefully, silence stretching between them as she sipped her beer. He felt her eyes on him, giving nervous little looks that tugged at every rational instinct he had left. Each time her gaze met his, he wanted to sink into it and live in it forever. He wondered if she felt the connection that had passed between them when he kissed her hand.
He took a long pull from his beer, trying to ease the dryness in his mouth. “So, Molly, are you enjoying New York?”
Knowing that one was coming, Emily let out a laugh. “Yes, I am actually, stalker boy. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m really not a stalker or a player, honestly,” he said, chuckling at the nickname she gave him.
“The stalker part may be questionable,” she laughed and so did Gavin. “But, I have to be honest, I’ve heard otherwise about you being a player.”
Emily bit her lip, realizing how horribly offensive those last words must’ve sounded. Even so, now knowing who he was, it was the truth. Olivia told her stories of Dillon’s rich friend, Gavin, being a ladies’ man. She also warned Emily that once she met him, it would take everything in her not to rip off her shirt and watch the buttons scatter on the floor, along with every sexual inhibition following behind them.
Yep, completely fuckable.
Shifting in his seat, Gavin flashed a smile. “And who did you hear that from?”