Page 2 of Jump

My eyes narrow in thought, then I glance down to my glass for the third time in search of sense. Blinking once, twice, I peer up again and meet his stare. “So?”

He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug and places a hand on my arm to shuffle me to the side a mere second before a couple, not watching where they’re going, almost bumps into me.

My eyes shoot down to where his fingers encircle my arm, and catch goosebumps springing up on my skin. The sensation races all the way to the tip of my spine, and I shiver under his touch, entirely involuntarily—only to scowl when I glance back up and find a smug grin tugging his mouth to the side.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, and when my scowl grows more severe, he rocks back on his heels and nods. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?” I demand. “What did you think?” I jerk my arm from his, not because I don’t want him to touch, but because the fact he does and my body turns to goosebumps is enough to throw me a little off-balance.

“I thought fuck,” he groans, so the sound ricochets right to the bottom of my stomach and replaces my nervousness with something else. Something a little more… curious. “She’s really fucking beautiful,” he continues. “I wasn’t trying to look. In fact, I left this party once already so I could stop looking. But then I came back in, and bam.” He bends his back a little to stare into my eyes. “There you were, still beautiful. Still alone. And on your second glass of champagne.”

“Hmm…” I flatten my lips and search for a way to escape without screaming ‘FIRE!’ in the middle of a hotel filled with firefighters. I want to run from the smooth-talking lothario before I allow myself a chance to be charmed, but the birthday girl’s brother is a fireman, which means his entire crew is here to celebrate too.

So subtlety is the name of this game.

And I have no practice with that.

“Nice line.” I flash a mildly pleasant, partially mocking, smile, which results in his expression dropping into a pout. Then I turn on my heels and start away.

“Wait.” He grabs my arm again—and damn me for hoping he would. Damn my imagination for wondering what it would be like to be pursued by an available, handsome, devilishly dangerous man like this one.

I’ve read too many romance novels for my mind not to wander. I grew up immersing myself in the love stories of fictional characters, while in real life, wanting to be noticed, but shying away when I was.

This man, whose name I don’t know, pulls me around until my toes meet the front of his shoes and my breath, embarrassingly, hits his chiseled jaw. If he had long hair, I have no doubt the gust that explodes from my chest would blow it back.

He stands over me, his eyes burning down into mine, while I arch my neck back to hold his gaze. “That wasn’t a line,” he shakes his head, slow and thoughtful. “I have no fuckin’ clue what it was, but it was the truth.”

“Listen…” I try to step back—and if I could, I would chug my alcohol and hope to remedy the anxiety swarming my blood—but he doesn’t allow me even an inch of space.

“You’re beautiful,” he presses. “In a room full of beautiful people, you’re the only one I see. I don’t know why that is. And hell knows, I sound like a creep on the verge of stalker status.”

“Yeah.” I nod in the space he barely allows, and swallow the ball of nerves in my throat. “Little bit.”

“But you’re the first woman I’ve thought that about in a long time. So…” Finally, he releases his tight grip on my arm and takes half a step back. “The fact I am has made me curious. Which pissed me off.” Chuckling, he reaches up and scrubs a hand along his stubbled jaw. “I was so pissed, I left the party.”

“But now you’re back?”

He drops his hand and chews on his thoughts for a beat before he finally nods. “You’re the first woman I’ve looked at in a long time, and though I might burn in hell for it, I came back so I could look at you a little more.”

He’s a peculiar man. Odd, in the careful wording he chooses. As well as in the words he doesn’t speak at all.

“Looking typically involves eyes only.” My hands shake and adrenaline zings through my veins, but I bring my crystal flute up and work to hide the tremor beneath it. “You jumped to touching awfully fast, considering we don’t know each other. And I’m friendly with a lot of first responders in this room.”

I take a sip of my drink and search the crowd for the man I know as the chief of authority in town. Then, for my companion, I nod in the cop’s direction. “Chief Turner. And the guy beside him, Deputy Franks.” Finally, I twist fractionally to the right and glance toward Axel Feeney. “Firefighter, and my friend. So what’s stopping me from screaming right now and getting your ass beat and locked up for the night?”

As though amused—the twinkle in his eye sexier than the worry that was there a moment ago—he follows my line of sight until he stops on Axel’s broad back. Music plays from the live band across the room, and people chatter, so sound becomes one massive white noise that could become overwhelming for some. But my odd companion only grins, like the thought of Axel Feeney doing anything to remove him is absurd.

“I touched you only to move you and prevent alcohol being spilled on your dress.” Bringing his attention back to me, he glances down and stops on my bottom lip, trapped between my teeth.

I hadn’t even realized I was doing it until his gaze darkens.

“But touching you meant I got to see with my own eyes,” he rasps. “I got to know.”

“To see what?” I release my lip and meet his stare. A glutton for punishment. A prisoner out for execution. “To know what?”

“You react to me.” He slides his tongue forward to wet his dry lips, my eyes following the movement, and my throat turning parched in response. “Your brain says fuck no. But your body says something else entirely.”

I choke out a nervous laugh while, inside my head, my mind screams what the hell? “You’re presumptuous, aren’t you? You have no clue who I am, and yet, you think you can tell me what my body thinks?”

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