Page 63 of Desperate Needs

But the answer was obvious. He was a man who lived alone, or so I assumed.

He had a business to run that demanded a lot of attention and time. I sincerely doubted Christmas was very much on his mind.

How fucking sad.

The door opened before I could lift my hand to press the buzzer, and I jumped. But the sound was drowned out by the hammering of my heart as my eyes locked onto his glittering onyx gaze.

Jesus, he looked good. Almost too handsome.

“Come in,” he murmured, dipping his chin.

His dark gaze roamed over me from head to toe, and I shivered in response. I couldn’t help how my body reacted to the man.

My stomach clenched and my blood heated. My pulse raced like a herd of galloping horses, and a sense of pure joy filled me just upon seeing him.

The man was simply so, so much.

I bit my lip, wondering at his frown, but dismissed it quickly as I took him in.

He wore a black shirt over gray slacks, dark gray shoes with red soles, and a pair of matching red suspenders.

A wide grin spread across my face even as heat danced up my spine.

Only Connor could pull that off and still look sexy as fuck.

His hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. And I wondered if he was stressed out.

The top three buttons of his shirt were open, gifting me with tantalizing glimpses of inked, bronzed skin. Causing my thoughts to take a carnal turn.

“Let me have your coat,” he said.

I nodded, turning around and allowing him to take it.

His tattooed hands moved with quick efficiency, as I imagined he did all things.

Lord knew, he proved it in the ways he touched me, bringing me to a boil with patient accuracy.

I thought I heard him curse, but when I faced him, he was already turning away to place my coat inside a hall closet.

I took the moment to look around at his space, hoping for a glimpse into the man himself.

The house exuded a sense of strength and simplicity. For all his care with his wardrobe, I kind of felt sad as I followed him down the hall.

I expected the focus to be on functionality and minimalism, but what was missing was warmth. The space seemed clinical almost.

Dry.

Muted.

It had none of the rich, deep color I’d thought he would have chosen for his palette. None of the style or panache he showed in his dress.

It was all charcoal grays and blacks. All the best materials. Everything so decidedly masculine.

Steel.

Wood.

Stone.

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