Page 8 of Seduction in Spades

Nowhere on my list did it include hooking up with a hot guy. However, I don’t mind adding it to my list. Since I started my job, I haven’t had much time for socializing. Sure, my weekends are free, but I’m still saving money, and rent eats up more than half my salary, even with my brother’s family discount.

I’ve always lived on my strict budget and have been quite frugal since moving here. Boston is much more expensive than New Orleans. And the men are dreamier.

What harm could come from what promises to be explosive sex? Granted, Superman could be a selfish lover. Just because he has a body made for loving and dances pretty okay doesn’t mean he’ll be a generous lover.

A girl can dream.

Even dressed in a simple long sleeve and jeans, the man gives off a wealthy vibe. Hell, he brought me to a tequila bar. A bar that doesn’t include prices on its board. I bet next week’s paycheck, the tequila is top shelf. The chocolate sure the hell must be.

Maybe I can convince him to pay for a hotel room. Granted, that would make me feel like a hooker. My conscious and Superman are right. I can’t invite him back to my place.

I dry my hands on a paper towel and head back out. I should do the normal thing and give him my number. That’s the safe thing to do.

I round the corner and see him leaning against the wall by the door. Shit, he’s sexy. One leg casually bent, his shoulder propping up the building. My Superman is one fine specimen. My gut tells me he’s a nice guy. Not a perv. Not a stalker who’s going to be on my doorstep every night or ringing my bell in the middle of the night.

But that makes me sad as well. Coming home to Superman every night wouldn’t be a hardship. There’s no way a man who looks like him, is well-mannered, kind, and funny is single.

I walk up to him and fold my arms across my chest. “Are you married?”

His brows shoot up. “Not even close.”

“Girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t be here with you if I had a girlfriend.”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

I hear a glass drop behind the bar. Okay, I may have asked that a little too loud. I reach for his hand and pull him out the door and onto the empty sidewalk.

“Forget I asked that. It’s none of my business unless you say last night. I’m not interested in a guy who sleeps around on the regular.”

“I most definitely didn’t have sex last night, and I’m not interested in a woman who sleeps around either.”

I nervously tap my toe on the pavement. His answers do nothing to tame my overactive ovaries. I want this man in the worst way. Scratch that. The best way. My life is about to get extremely busy and serious with a massive research project due to land on my desk next week. We’ve been given the next few Wednesdays off as mental health days in preparation for the workload about to come our way, hence my out-of-character Tuesday night partying.

Climbing Superman’s wall of steel could be my last hoo-rah before I get buried in work. I don’t have time or any interest in a relationship. If we exchange names and numbers and go out on more dates, I’ll end up falling for him.

He oozes the charm that has women falling for him in a matter of seconds. Present company included. If we hook up tonight, it will be once and done and I won’t have to worry about my mind and heart getting lost in the emotions of a guy or a relationship. I’ll be more focused on work if I’m sexually satisfied.

And my body will thank me for it. The pink energizer bunny in my nightstand drawer hasn’t been doing it for me anymore.

Okay. Here goes nothing. I’m jumping in. Pretending to be the confident, strong woman of the times, I relax my arms by my sides and look him square in those panty-wetting blue eyes of his.

“You’re not coming back to my place. Because, you know, the stalker thing.”

“That’s wise.”

“We have this sexual chemistry thing going on, and I won’t be able to sleep tonight or for the next few nights if I don’t do something about it.”

His gaze lowers to my lips, and he does that sexy thing with his tongue that he did on the dance floor. He licks the center of his lower lip and tugs it into his mouth with his teeth. I don’t even think it’s a conscious thing. But shit. It’s sexy.

“What exactly do you plan on doing about it?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly.

I clench my thighs and swallow the ball of lust in my throat.

“I see two options. Three, really, if you aren’t up for what the first two entail.”

A dimple forms on his cheek as he’s fighting off a smirk. This man is so much fun to play with. I can’t even begin to imagine how much fun he’ll be in bed.

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