I can’t help but stare at his mouth. His lips are full and pink and seem to be permanently tilted up in a smile, and I’m beginning to warm to the idea of not being a complete bitch to this total stranger just because he happens to have a penis.
If it’s true what they say about hands and penises, Damian’s must be . . . don’t go there, Addison. That subject is completely off limits for a long time.
“I saw you. Last night at Joe’s.” His eyes smile along with his mouth.
Joe’s . . . the bar . . . and the man with the intense dark eyes who’d captured my attention for a fleeting moment before Matt had sauntered in. He was wearing a beanie, covering the short dark brown hair that leads down a perfectly chiseled and scruffy jaw. No wonder I hadn’t made the connection. “You’re bar guy.”
He laughs slightly. “I’d like to think I’m more than that.” He takes a step closer.
I take one back.
He grins, his eyes lighting up with amusement, but doesn’t move towards me again.
“Well, thanks for the help. I’m going to head home now and clean up. I guess I’ll see you around?” He’s too perfect, and it makes me nervous. I thought I found perfect once, only to be reminded there is no such thing.
He’s standing with his hands on his hips and a silly grin on his face. “I hope so.” His smile grows, and I give him a little wave as I escape back into reality, pushing aside the humiliating realization that I face planted at his feet. The memory reminded me that when I fall, I fall hard and men, especially men who look like Damian Walker, are dangerous to the female race.
She’s saying goodbye, and I get the feeling I shouldn’t let her go so easily. As I shake her hand and its tiny soft form grips mine tightly, I pay attention to the delicate bones and hold on for longer than socially acceptable.
She smiles.
I can’t help but smile in return.
She begins to walk away but looks back and catches me still standing there, my eyes firmly planted on her perfectly round ass. She’s tiny, maybe five foot two, and her dark brown hair, so dark it is almost black, is pulled up away from her face exposing the fine white skin on her neck. She’s got these green eyes the color of emeralds that are intoxicating. And her tits, damn, her tits would fit in the palm of my hand. I could sleep with those babies cradled between my fingers all night long.
I wonder who the Calvin Klein wanna-be she left with last night was. That second glance she just shot my way tells me he didn’t show her much of a good time.
Not that I had a stellar night, either. Moving out of the run down piece of shit home I shared with my best friend Harry Reed for the past six years was tougher than I expected. I should have moved out two years ago, but I had no reason to be on my own and prove myself to the world. Now gearing up for my twenty-ninth birthday, it’s time to grow up. Not normally a sentimental guy, I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy at the idea of leaving the dude who’s seen me through some of my toughest moments. Heading to the bar and throwing back a few after all the boxes were packed and ready to go probably wasn’t my brightest idea.
Until I noticed her.
This tiny green-eyed beauty had been drinking out of beer bottle all night. Her lips encased around the rim of the glass, her eyes alive and content as she took in her surroundings. She’d instantly grabbed my attention. Standing mere inches away, I was about to approach her when some jackass with perfectly styled hair wearing a designer suit walked in. Her entire face changed, transforming from one of complete calmness to one of total disbelief, like the man had risen from the dead.
But that was yesterday. Today she’s standing right in front of me, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, she’s caught my interest. Unstrapping my iPod from my arm, I pocket it and move in her direction.
“Hey, wait up, I’ll walk with you.” For the past six years, my life has had some crazy highs and some bottomless lows. Watching her lips begin to curl up