Page 18 of One Hotlanta Night
“By the way, that’s your wife.”
I stood transfixed, my lungs ceasing to function. Who needed oxygen in the presence of this beauty? I could just breathe her in instead. Press my mouth to hers, inhaling her essence… that’s all I needed. From now to eternity.
After all this time, was this the night I metthe one? And if so, how the hell did I get so lucky?
My eyes didn’t know where to look first. I couldn’t take all of her in quickly enough. She shone like an angel amidst the chaos around her, and it took all of my willpower not to march straight over there, take her in my arms, and make her mine.
Especially when I saw she was dancing with that little prick Matt. He works in my office, plays hockey with us sometimes. Harmless, but annoying.
At least he wasn’t touching her. At the moment.
My clenched fists uncurled a bit, and I decided to stand back and watch. Play it cool. If this really was my person, I could take my time. Evaluate. Determine how best to approach her. I let my eyes sweep over her again. She was absolutely stunning, and the pull I’d felt a moment before was only intensifying. No question. She was most definitelymine.
I took a deep breath. I wouldn’t let my temper ruin this moment. This was too important. I could be patient. Ineededto be patient.
She wouldn’t be going home with him tonight.
Anyone without cataracts could see that Matt had zero rhythm but was strutting around like a peacock putting on a show. He’dkept a safe distance, and I wondered if she was just tolerating his presence or if he’d already tried to cop a feel.
He better not have touched her.
She was nodding along to whatever he was saying, but her eyes were darting around the club at the same time. She wasn’t into him. It was obvious, but apparently not to him as he continued to contort himself into strange positions. He could use some lessons from the Nature channel.
I’d settled into a comfortable spot on the sidelines, my shoulder blades pressed against the brick wall. This was as good a spot as any to scope her out. I wouldn’t call myself a gentleman with how my pulse was racing, but I’d rather wait for her to disengage from this peabrain before stepping in to make my move.
Observing her movements, she seemed a little hesitant as she found her stride, but she was clearly no stranger to dancing. Her moves matched the rhythms like a pro. When Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” came on, she screamed just as loudly as everyone else and threw herself into the hard bass. Ah, so my girl liked reggaeton.
All I could do was watch. And admire. And if I was honest, salivate. My jeans weren’t this tight when I got here.
Her hips dropped, swaying seductively in time to the sensual lyrics, hands rising up in the air as she undulated her body to the beat. I’d swallowed thickly and had to adjust myself, taking a quick sip of my beer to cool down. My eyes couldn’t decide which part they wanted to view first, her dark hair slicked up into a bun, the silver halter top caressing every curve, or that sinfully biteable ass bouncing to the beat.
But more than her luscious curves, I wanted—no,needed—her to see me. I could’ve walked over and made my move. I sure as hell wanted to. But I restrained myself. I needed to know.
I wanted her to look at me, to see if this intense connection that I was feeling went both ways. That she felt this insatiable draw as well. She didn’t look like someone who needed a man, who needed anybody. But I needed her to want me. To chooseme.
Look up, beautiful, I willed in my head.I want you to look at me.
My hungry eyes bore down on her, and just like that, her gaze came to rest on mine. Her eyes widened slightly, and she blinked once, then twice. She stopped stock-still amidst the people dancing around her, looking directly at me as I met her gaze. Her expression morphed from shock, to curiosity, to desire.Yes, my heart thumped in my chest. That halo kept on shimmering, shining on her and her alone. She swallowed, and I smiled at her, trying to tamp down the urge to rush over and take her now. My hand shook as I lifted my beer, pointing the bottle toward her as confirmation.
Telling her she was the only one I saw.
The one.
My one and only.
I don’t know her favorite color, her birthday, or even her name. I just know she’s meant to be mine.
God, I hope she feels the same way.
I was aching to walk over and start learning all about her. But something told me to stay still, that it wasn’t the right time yet, to let her come to me. So I waited.
And then two bad things happened at once.
Matt reached out to touch her hip, and my phone buzzed from my back pocket. Isabella’s ringtone. One I couldn’t ignore.
Scowling that he dared to place his hands on my woman but knowing I had to answer, I reluctantly stepped away from my post and veered toward the bathrooms where it was quieter. Ignoring the couples against the walls who had chosen the samespot to make out and hump, I found an alcove where I could pick up the call.
“Hello?” I tried not to blast my sister’s eardrums. The music was still pretty loud.
