All I Want is You
Hot Guy is incredibly tall, has a mop of dirty-blond hair, and raspy scruff peppering his movie-star jawline. A tight henley shows off every inch of his broad chest and muscular arms from where he stands across the room, just staring at me.
Seems I’ve caught his eye, too. That never happens to me.
His lips part when our eyes meet, like he wants to call out to me or something, but instead he keeps on staring. Staring in a way that makes my heart beat double time, that makes my knees weak. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t nod, doesn’t do anything other than look at me like he wants to devour me.
Without really thinking, I hurriedly make my way over, not even trying to play it cool. I slide between couples who are bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and when I reach Hot Guy, he smiles. It’s not the slick grin of a slime ball who knows he’s going to get laid tonight; it’s sweet and sexy, with just the hint of a dimple shining through.
“Hi,” he says, all soft and familiar despite the fact that we’re complete strangers.
“I’m glad you came over.” He leans in close, and all I can think about is how good he smells. I want to press my face into his neck and breathe deep. I want his tongue to become familiar with every single inch of my body.
I’m feeling turned on and brazen, and the way Hot Guy’s eyes skate across my body makes me pretty confident that he feels the same way, too. That’s what gives me the courage to say, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who has difficulty making women come.”
I certainly hope not, at least.
Hot Guy lets out a shocked laugh, and his hazel eyes darken with something that looks a lot like lust. His hands find their way to the small of my back and he gives me a gentle tug, pulling me closer to him and away from the crowd.
“I’m not,” he replies, his scruff rasping against my skin as his lips brush the shell of my ear. “I can show you if you’d like.”