Page 5 of Mine to Ruin

This is it, the moment a total stranger alters something private in me forever, and I can’t even name what exactly it is. I have never experienced this raw interest before, and it excites me. For the first time in my life, I experience want so potent, it knocks me off balance.

He’s fully turned to me, showing me that I own all his attention. Something wolfish passes over his features. He eyes me as if I am his next five-course meal.

A wave of apprehension and desire passes through me, and I’m unsure which will win. He’s dangerous and doesn’t even try to mask it. The distinct air of someone who has lived life to the fullest and now bores easily. The crowd surrounds him as he rules over them all by just being there.

I tilt my head, like he calls to me. There’s a challenge there. Every nerve ending in my body strains. The smirk on his lips tells me he knows the effect he has on me, and it disturbs me, his smugness, the victory over a game I wasn’t aware we were playing.

I meet his challenge, and I raise my glass. A flash of surprise passes across his face and his smirk drops. I sway on my heels, turn around, and murmur to my heart to calm down. The storm passed. But if it were true, I wouldn’t still feel my skin prickle, or my heart pleading for me to steal another glance. And I do.

Amusement tips up the corners of his lips when he catches me. I snap my head away again, and this flirting sends jolts of excitement to my core. I smile to myself as we continue to exchange glances. The heat of his gaze inflames my skin, and I need a break before I combust.

My friends are still swaying their bodies to the music, and I touch Tara on the shoulder and mouth, “I’ll be right back. Need to go to the bathroom.”

I take the hallway on the right and the cold air from the AC soothes my heated skin. I reach the bathroom. Women chat or apply makeup, and I wash my hands and lean on the gold-and-white marble of the sink, needing a minute more to gather myself. I wet my fingers, dampen my face, and I give myself a pep talk.

“You go in there and don’t look back at him.”

With renewed determination, I walk out only to come to an abrupt stop. Every bit of progress I made evaporates when I come face to face with him.

His vivid eyes—a rare gray mixed with deep greens I know I will try to replicate in my paintings until I get it right—framed by thick, black lashes, a carved jaw, that straight nose, all add up to the dangerous aura as if he needs more of that.

His face is a sculpture of manly beauty, rugged, and sharp; his skin is lightly kissed by the sun. Hands tucked in his pockets, he props against the wall and cocks his head. He is without a shadow of a doubt the sexiest man I have ever seen, and in a suit, he’s quite lethal. He pushes himself off the wall and I hear my own gulp.

I stay rooted to the spot as he approaches me. Goosebumps pebble my skin like he commanded them to appear.

“Who are you?” His voice ends in a deep rasp, turning my core to molten heat.

I want to ask him the same, but then he lifts his hand. He twirls a lock of my hair between his fingers, leaning in, his nose brushing my neck. My body melts like butter under his touch. His heady scent mixed with notes of amber and sandalwood invades my nostrils. It’s so potent, I bite down a moan.

Is this happening to me? He tips my head back and runs his thumb over my jaw line. What is he doing to me?

I lick my lips, and they tingle under his gaze. He cups my face between his hands, his chest heaving, and his eyes bore into mine as if I have the answer to a problem he can’t solve. He lowers his head as if waiting for me to stop him, but my ability to rationalize has short circuited.

I am just senses, and he commands them. What a surreal experience.

My heart ticks until it booms in my ears when his lips touch mine. A moan slips free, and he sucks on my lower lip, groaning. He backs me up against the wall, and his tongue probes my mouth. My lips part on pure instinct, and his tongue goes from exploring to conquering.

Our lips dance to a familiar tune, as if it’s not our first but our millionth kiss. He nips, nibbles, and plays with every sense I own. It’s the best kiss of my life. I am free-falling into euphoria.

His hands go to my waist, steadying, holding me. When the kiss ends, we gasp for air. A tiny whine escapes my mouth, and heat rushes to my cheeks. His brows furrow as he straightens, flattening his hands against the wall, but still caging me in.

We stare at each other for long minutes, as if our souls need to be reacquainted with the other.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says in a husky voice.

Was that a question? I couldn’t tell because my brain went on vacation without notice. It's difficult to concentrate on anything except those lips I could never tire of tasting.

“You kissed me,” I say the obvious while I caress my swollen lips.

He drags his lower lip through his teeth, looking sexy in a smug and imperious way. I trace my lips with my tongue, and something darker flashes in his eyes, and my insides clench together.

“Why?”

His brows draw together, and he pants lightly. “I had to.” As if that is reason enough.

A surge of anger erupts in me. I’m mostly mad at myself for letting my control slip.

“Are you in the habit of cornering women and kissing them silly?” I clamp my mouth shut. The silly shouldn’t have been in the question.

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