Man Crush Monday

Chapter 4

I thought he looked hot in a suit, but this ... this is something else.

The casual look really works for him. Chunky black combat boots, loose and stylish; light-blue jeans covering long legs, just tight enough to make my thighs clench with a promise of what's underneath; a plain, soft-looking white T-shirt stretched over a broad chest. This is the first time I've seen him without a suit jacket, and his toned, tanned arms draw my attention. I imagine them wrapping around me, the feel of his skin against mine. I long to reach out and touch him. His smile is killer and will keep any girl up at night. And his laugh ... my God, I'm already done for the night, and we haven't even left the doorstep.

He's too hot to be standing in the dingy hallway with its peeling paint, questionable stain on the ceiling, and my worn welcome mat that Heather bought me as a housewarming gift that reads, Did you bring margaritas? He's in direct contrast with his surroundings. He's all beautiful and clean, and the communal stairwell that leads to my first-floor flat is ... anything but.

I wince and shake my head at myself. "What I meant to say was, hi."

One side of his mouth quirks up. "Hi."

As he holds out a bunch of pale pink roses, my insides thrum with pleasure.

"Got you these. They reminded me of you." His eyes flick to my hair and back down to my face.

I bite my bottom lip as I take them. "Thank you. They're lovely."

"You look amazing," he says.

When I look up from the flowers, I catch him in mid-examination, his eyes doing a slow sweep of my body, his jaw flexing with tension.

I hide my satisfied grin by burying my face in the flowers, inhaling their sweet perfume. "As do you, obviously. But I'm sure you got that from my earlier comment." I nod awkwardly and shift on my feet, looking anywhere but at him.

He laughs again, that deep, throaty chuckle that makes the hair on my arms stand up. Thankfully, he chooses not to embarrass me further. "Are you ready to go? I'm a little early. I can wait ..." He trails off, but I shake my head.

"I'm ready. Let me just put these inside." I step back, the door bumping me as I shoulder it open and deliberately close it a little behind me, so he doesn't follow me in.

Heather rolls her eyes. "That was not being cool."

"Tell me about it!" I stage-whisper, handing her the flowers. "Vase in the kitchen. Thanks. Love you. I'll call you later ... unless I'm too busy." I suggestively waggle my eyebrows.

She adamantly shakes her head. "No sex. Bait the hook, and keep him coming back."

I sigh in defeat but know she's right. If I have sex with him tonight, I'll likely never see him again. Well, until the next time on the train, and then that'll be uber awkward.

Picking up my handbag, I blow her a kiss. "Wish me luck."

She grins and crosses the fingers on her free hand, winking at me.

Jared is casually leaning against the wall outside my flat, one ankle crossed over the other, his long fingers tangled with each other. My eyes drink him in again—the flat stomach, the way the T-shirt fits across his pecs and falls looser to his waist. The material of it looks so soft that my fingers ache to reach out and touch it, to fist it up and yank his body closer to mine. I gulp, trying to douse my lust but it's hard, oh-so hard.

He straightens as I step out and moves to my side as we both head down the flight of stairs to the front door of my apartment block.

"Do you like Italian? You didn't say no, so I'm assuming you do, but we can go somewhere else if you prefer?" he asks as he leads me over to a sleek, expensive-looking black sports car.