He gave me adrenaline, passion and thrill. I just didn't know at what cost...
When small town girl Mia Thorpe moves to London to begin a new life, the last thing she expects is to fall head over heels for the charming yet mysterious Grayson Cooper...
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My mind is screaming abort mission, abort mission, but for some reason my feet won't cooperate.
My eyes just stare; dragging up and down the man's body with obvious lust. Obvious craving. Then I blink a few times. Then my heart stops—flat out.
Because it's him. It's that barman. And my God I'm not sure how to deal with this.
In his hands he folds that tight black shirt delicately, effortlessly. Under the bright lights of what I must assume is the staffroom, every inch of his toned, muscular body ripples and dances. His eyes seem darker, his olive skin gleaming against the spotlight. I know I need to leave but there is not one part of my body that is allowing me to move right now.
The barman takes a seat on the bench, smirking like he hides so many secrets; like he loves the fact that I'm feeling like I am right now. Biting his lip, he says, "I don't think you're supposed to be in here darlin'. You feeling better now?" His eyes glisten with menace. Something about him emits trouble.
And damn if I can endure darlin' much longer.
Finally able to tear my eyes from his brimming torso, I zero in on his face. He's watching me. Pulling me apart. Dissecting me with just that look and breaking me into a million little pieces.
I need to be careful.
Finding my voice, I say, "S—sorry. I had no idea this was the staffroom." I lift my arms about the space "I...I came up here to look for my friends." My head is dizzy, but for some strange reason I don't think it's from the alcohol.
The barman looks behind his shoulders, pretending that there's something to possibly see behind the scrunched items of clothing and littered shoes. When he turns back, his smile is wide. "Nope. Nobody here." His large shoulders shrug, and I can't help but gawp at how his muscles roll there.
He's one of those guys; the ones that people would warn you about. The ones that would draw you in, hypnotise you, take everything you have and then break you apart. I knew better—I thought. But for some reason, I don't want to leave.
The man is standing now. His eyebrows furrow as he nears me, my heart crashing harder with each step he takes. When there's barely an inch between us, I think I forget how to breathe.
He smells delicious. He must have just sprayed himself with aftershave because it smells fresh and mouthwatering. On his pectoral I spot a tattoo—roman numerals I think—and a silver chain hangs gracefully around his strong neck. For the second time tonight I'm contemplating if he's actually real or not.
"Are you sure you're okay?" His large fingers find my cheek, dusting my skin with the lightest touch he can make. And it's intoxicating. It sends every cell inside of me into a frenzy. "I won't ask you again." His voice is deep, dark, laced with mystery. Despite the music around us the staffroom seems to fall silent, his words floating like velvet in the small space. Then he removes his hand and my heart dips to my toes.
