His lips fall, taking on a serious expression, as I make every attempt to back away from him. Sighing, I decide I should be a little nicer. It’s not his fault I’m attracted to giant assholes. I begin to introduce myself, but he beats me to it.
Holding out his hand, he doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are roaming over my body. I’m short, only five foot two, but I’m built well and have always kept myself in shape. Needing to get outside as quickly as possible, I’d thrown my dark chocolate brown hair into a messy bun, and didn’t take the time to remove last night’s makeup from my green eyes.
I must look like shit.
I’d barely slept at all, rolling around the pristine and silky white sheets of the Four Seasons Hotel with a married man.
Ugh, block the memory.
Caught up in his gaze, I barely hear the name that rolls out of his mouth. “I’m Damian Walker.”
“Addison Peacock.” I shake his hand. It’s huge, twice the size of Matt’s in length and width and holds onto mine for a second longer than necessary. Crap, am I going to compare every man I meet to Matt for the rest of my life? I feel the edges of rough calluses on the bottom of his palm, and they tickle my skin as my hand slides out of his. Looking at the bulging, defined muscles of his bicep I can only assume those calluses came from hours spent at the gym.
“Peacock suits you. It matches your eyes.”
I can’t help but stare at his mouth. His lips are full and pink and seem to be permanently tilted up in a smile, and I’m beginning to warm to the idea of not being a complete bitch to this total stranger just because he happens to have a penis.
If it’s true what they say about hands and penises, Damian’s must be . . . don’t go there, Addison. That subject is completely off limits for a long time.
“I saw you. Last night at Joe’s.” His eyes smile along with his mouth.
Joe’s . . . the bar . . . and the man with the intense dark eyes who’d captured my attention for a fleeting moment before Matt had sauntered in. He was wearing a beanie, covering the short dark brown hair that leads down a perfectly chiseled and scruffy jaw. No wonder I hadn’t made the connection. “You’re bar guy.”
He laughs slightly. “I’d like to think I’m more than that.” He takes a step closer.
I take one back.
He grins, his eyes lighting up with amusement, but doesn’t move towards me again.
“Well, thanks for the help. I’m going to head home now and clean up. I guess I’ll see you around?” He’s too perfect, and it makes me nervous. I thought I found perfect once, only to be reminded there is no such thing.
He’s standing with his hands on his hips and a silly grin on his face. “I hope so.” His smile grows, and I give him a little wave as I escape back into reality, pushing aside the humiliating realization that I face planted at his feet. The memory reminded me that when I fall, I fall hard and men, especially men who look like Damian Walker, are dangerous to the female race.
She’s saying goodbye, and I get the feeling I shouldn’t let her go so easily. As I shake her hand and its tiny soft form grips mine tightly, I pay attention to the delicate bones and hold on for longer than socially acceptable.
She smiles.
I can’t help but smile in return.
She begins to walk away but looks back and catches me still standing there, my eyes firmly planted on her perfectly round ass. She’s tiny, maybe five foot two, and her dark brown hair, so dark it is almost black, is pulled up away from her face exposing the fine white skin on her neck. She’s got these green eyes the color of emeralds that are intoxicating. And her tits, damn, her tits would fit in the palm of my hand. I could sleep with those babies cradled between my fingers all night long.
I wonder who the Calvin Klein wanna-be she left with last night was. That second glance she just shot my way tells me he didn’t show her much of a good time.
Not that I had a stellar night, either. Moving out of the run down piece of shit home I shared with my best friend Harry Reed for the past six years was tougher than I expected. I should have moved out two years ago, but I had no reason to be on my own and prove myself to the world. Now gearing up for my twenty-ninth birthday, it’s time to grow up. Not normally a sentimental guy, I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy at the idea of leaving the dude who’s seen me through some of my toughest moments. Heading to the bar and throwing back a few after all the boxes were packed and ready to go probably wasn’t my brightest idea.
Until I noticed her.
This tiny green-eyed beauty had been drinking out of beer bottle all night. Her lips encased around the rim of the glass, her eyes alive and content as she took in her surroundings. She’d instantly grabbed my attention. Standing mere inches away, I was about to approach her when some jackass with perfectly styled hair wearing a designer suit walked in. Her entire face changed, transforming from one of complete calmness to one of total disbelief, like the man had risen from the dead.
But that was yesterday. Today she’s standing right in front of me, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, she’s caught my interest. Unstrapping my iPod from my arm, I pocket it and move in her direction.
“Hey, wait up, I’ll walk with you.” For the past six years, my life has had some crazy highs and some bottomless lows. Watching her lips begin to curl up as I near her, I can’t help but grin in return, feeling a sense of calm settling over me and wondering what it is about her that’s drawing me in.
“Where you headed?” I run up to her.
“Just down the road.” She points in the direction of my house.
“Me too.” She continues to smile and begins to walk. I take that as an invitation to walk beside her. I’m at least a foot taller and have to slow my stride so she can keep up. “New in town?”
Her eyes widen. “Um no, I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“Lucky girl.” My fingers tap my thigh continuously, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. I knew last night she was a local; it was obvious the way she and her friends were laughing at all the people who’d come back for a few nights of debauchery for UCSB alumni weekend.
She sweeps her bangs away from her forehead, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, her dark lashes blinking and her pace slowing.
Her smile fades a little. “Not really, just . . . circumstance.”
Damn, I want to see that sweet smile back on her pretty face, but I’m also dying to know why she doesn’t think growing up in a beautiful seaside town wasn’t the greatest hand dealt to her in life.
“Well, let’s hope your luck’s about to change now that you’ve met me.”
Her face lifts with a sudden smile, and she begins laughing. “That may be one of the cheesiest lines I’ve ever heard.”
“Hey, at least I’m honest.” I know I’m grinning from ear to ear, and I begin to walk backward so I can get a better look at her while we talk. Her smile vanishes, and her delicate, dark eyebrows instantly furrow in thought, until she realizes I’m right in front of her.
“You’re going to trip,” she chides, “and I’m not big enough to catch you.”
Her casual demeanor is back and she’s right. I am going to trip because I can’t focus on anything but her enticing lips.
I stop abruptly, and she walks right into me. My arms circle her, keeping her steady as she gets her balance. She’s laughing. It’s coming from deep in her belly, and her whole body is shaking as she lets me hold her close, her forehead resting on my chest, my body feeling a slight jolt.
“Why did you stop?” Her voice vibrates through me, and I gently tighten my arms around her.
“Because, this is my street.” I’m rocking her back and forth in my arms, my bare chest lighting up with the feel of her so close to me. She’s not pulling away and it feels . . . natural.