Page 32 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

Then reason sunk in. There was no recognition in his eyes. Nothing at all. It was like staring into mysterious darkness. Yet, I never forgot him. There were so many nights that I touched myself, imagining his hands on me. Even now, just the thought of it made me combust into flames.

I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed that the man that I’d fantasized about for the past two years didn’t even show an ounce of recollection of what we’d shared between us. The man I went furthest with.

He’s not even that great looking, I told myself. Just sexy enough to ignite my entire body into heat. But whatever!

My expression was schooled, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from roaming over his body. I’d bet wearing a black, three piece suit was his signature wardrobe. It was sophisticated and expensive, but the tattoos threw it all off. He had ink on his hands and neck, but if I had to guess, he had it elsewhere too. It was one of my regrets from two years ago; that I didn’t get to see that mouthwatering body underneath his suit.

I lifted my eyes slowly over his torso back up to his face. His whole presence was dominating, but those eyes. Dark and full of secrets. I wanted to see the specks in his gaze. An invisible force pulled me to him. To feel his heat. To feel his lips on me. Would they feel as good as I remembered?

“Whoa.” Margaret’s voice came from somewhere. Yes, exactly my thought. Her eyes roaming over the two men appreciatively. Did she not remember him?

Probably not. Margaret hooked up with someone else that night. She came banging on the door but never actually saw the mystery man.

He kept his hair short although there was enough to push your fingers through it. I curled my fingers into a fist, fighting the urge to plunge them through the strands to his scalp. There were light traces of silver in his black hair that weren’t there before. Or maybe I just didn’t notice them that night.

That same feeling of familiarity I sensed when I first met him snaked down my back. It frustrated me that I couldn’t get rid of the sensation that I was missing something. There was something about him. I searched my memory, like I had so many times before only to come out empty. But I was certain therewassomething. From a long time ago. It was right there, hidden in the thick fog. The throbbing in my temples started, the ache piercing through my skull. I didn’t realize my fingers were pressing against my temples until Margaret shook my hand off my head.

“Áine, are you alright?” I broke eye contact with the stranger, turning to Margaret.

“What?” The haze in my brain made it hard to think. And there were things lingering in the fog that I couldn’t quite grasp. A hand lurked in that fog, reaching out. Yet, I could never quite grab it.

Great, I’d have to visit my therapists the moment I got back to New York.

“The elevator is here,” Margaret muttered. She held the door, her eyes impatient on me. “I told you like three times.”

“Sorry.” I shook my head, as if it would clear the fog in my brain and lust in my body. “My head is killing me,” I offered a half-assed excuse.My pride is hurting me even more, I added silently. Talk about a severely impacted self-esteem - he didn’t remember me at all.

We both stepped into the elevator and the men followed behind us. My elevator phobia was the furthest thing from my mind right now. Instead, all my senses were zeroed in on the man that entered behind me.

God, those lips… a cocky, arrogant, ever-knowing smile played around those sinfully full lips. I forced my eyes away from them and kept studying him. I didn’t know his name, never asked him for it that night. It was just an innocent dance, not so innocent kiss and… oh crap, those same butterflies I felt two years ago were back.

Get your shit together, Áine! Keep your panties on and cool off.The man didn’t even recognize me. It must not have been as memorable to him as it was to me.Asshole!

Going from turned on to insulted wasn’t helping my mental state.

“Are you guys staying here?” Margaret asked them boldly.

I glared at her, then titled my head to the side to give her a pointed look, shaking my head. She just ignored me. Of course, she would ignore me. When it came to men, she chased them just as passionately as we chased the criminals.

Only one of the men nodded a response, but said nothing. My hookup guy didn’t even acknowledge her, which was unusual. Men usually fell all over themselves for Margaret. I avoided looking into his eyes again, but from the peripheral, I could sense him watching me. Maybe I looked familiar to him, and he was trying to remember me.

Not sure if that lifted my spirits or not, but when the number of men that could make your body burn with craving was as rare as endangered species, you didn’t have the luxury of acting undignified. Or maybe my slutty pussy just wanted an excuse to feel his fingers inside me.

Great, now I was blushing and probably looked like a damn tomato.

Okay, forget him,I groaned silently. Not. That. Good. Looking.

I’d tell myself that until I believed it.

“We are celebrating. Maybe you could join us?” Margaret used her sultry voice and put her most seductive smile on. I scowled, demanding with my eyes for her to stop. If these two joined us, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions. I’d attack and possibly hump my perfect stranger.

It was the name I assigned to him and somehow it stuck.

“I’m so sorry,” I chimed in, forcing a smile onto my face. “But our party is full.”

Margaret’s head snapped to me. ‘No, it’s-”

“Remember, they gave us a limit,” I lied boldly, trying to convey with my pointed look to her that we didn’t need any trouble. “We are full.”

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