Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He shrugs without a response. The air sizzles around us, and I can feel the attraction growing. I tell myself it’s all in his image, but even just having met him, it feels deeper than that. The bartender comes over, and he orders a bourbon. A moment later, a crystal glass with brown liquid is set in front of him. I watch as he swirls the bourbon around in the glass before taking a gulp of the alcohol. He doesn’t even flinch, and I watch his throat as he swallows, his muscles flexing, drawing me in.
“I think you’re looking for fun.”
My brows pinch together in confusion. “Looking for fun? What do you mean? I’m already having fun.”
He laughs, and it’s the deep, throaty kind that makes you tingle in all the best places. “If this is your idea of fun, then I don’t want to see what your idea of rest and relaxation is.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Are you insinuating that I’m not fun?”
He takes another swig of his drink and places the now empty glass on the bar.
I will admit I’m a bit fired up by his assumption, but I don’t show it, or at least I don’t think I do. The space between us is nothing but a foot, yet somehow, he moves closer, his giant frame invading mine. He has to be six feet or taller, and compared to my height of five-three, I must look like a dwarf beneath him. I crane my neck back to continue looking up at him.
He takes mercy on me and leans down. The smell of cinnamon and sweet bourbon clings to his breath. My eyes linger on his lips for so long I can picture him kissing me. Would he kiss me hard, consuming me from the outside in, or would his kiss be gentle like a feather? My focus breaks when those lips of his start moving.
“I’m insinuating that... you’re guarded. You don’t look like the type who takes risks. You look…” His gaze roams over me, and I can feel it burning a road map across my skin. “Safe.”
My cheeks heat. I’m flustered or maybe embarrassed. Yes, the latter it is. This man I’ve never met, that I know nothing about, has just insulted me.
“Safe?” The word comes out in a squeak.
Christian smiles, and I’d smack that smile off his face if I had enough balls. This man is intimidating, cocky, and honest, and I don’t like it. Mostly because he can read me like no one else can, and that’s terrifying when he’s nothing more than a stranger.
His hand comes out of nowhere, and a small gasp escapes my lips when his fingertips contact my cheek as he brushes a couple of strands of hair from my face. His fingers are calloused, and I imagine them touching me in places I have no right thinking about a stranger touching me, especially one who could be dangerous.
“I don’t mean that in an asshole way. I just mean you seem like the safe type. Never going anywhere alone, and definitely not talking to some stranger in a bar.”
I lick my lips. “You’re not wrong. I don’t usually talk to strangers. In fact, I don’t even like coming to bars, but my friend drags me along every time she goes. She’s always blabbing about needing to get out of the house, be social, and meet people.”
“She isn’t wrong. It’s good to get out, and it’s even better to take risks. You never know when it could lead to something amazing.”
I get the feeling he’s reflecting on meeting him. “You mean meeting you?”
My eyes catch the way his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. My toes curl inside my flats. I can feel the air growing hotter around us.
“Well, of course, yes. Meeting me will be the height of your night. I promise.”
His arrogant attitude makes me smile, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re very arrogant.”
“You’re very beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with a complete stranger in the middle of a crowded bar, and he’s calling me beautiful.
I’m reminded once again that this isn’t me. I’m not this person.
“A time or two.” I pause, and my anxiety sparks. “Tell me, what is it that brought you to this side of the bar? Surely, I’m not the only gorgeous woman here.”
Something familiar flickers in his blue eyes, but I can’t pinpoint the look in my mind. “I’m not sure. I just saw your face and felt drawn to you. Maybe it’s fate?”
“I don’t believe in fate,” I tell him, the honesty bleeding out of me.
He raises a brow. “Really? What do you believe in?”
“I believe that if it’s meant to be, then it will be. Everything finds a way in life.”
“That sounds pretty close to fate to me.” The sarcasm in his voice is unmistakable.