Bound to You
Page 22
But not tonight.
I made my way to the bar on the other side of the huge rectangular room. Shelves with beautiful liquor bottles and dark blue lights extended from the bar below to the ceiling above. This was my first time visiting the place, but I liked the overall nautical vibe.
With so many people here, it was hard to avoid prying eyes. Whether the dancers were men or women, their first glance usually hooked me. A beautiful half-Asian, half-black girl danced suggestively with a group of friends. She looked at me over her shoulder and her face blossomed into a smile. As pretty as she was, tonight wasn’t about playing but finding a place to wait for Tomas. Just the thought of seeing him made my stomach quiver.
I moved faster. Anticipation crawled up my back. I scanned the bar to find a place to slide in. The club was pretty packed, so I had to walk a bit. One man smiled my way and gestured for me to take his place so he could stand behind me.
No thanks. I shook my head. I didn’t want to repay the favor. I kept going until I spotted a man leaving the bar holding a few shots. He hurried back to his table, and I took his place.
Once I slid onto the warmed leather seat, I sighed. There wasn’t a place like this in London. I only had to close my eyes to hear the sounds of Boston. In just this one club, I could hear accents that only existed in the U.S. Technically, I was a New York City girl, but I could learn to love Boston again based on what I saw so far.
The bartender approached me. “What are you having tonight?”
I hesitated at my choice but gave in. I’d deal with the real world tomorrow. “Two shots of vanilla vodka please. No ice.”
“Coming right up.”
Time passed, but not much. Maybe it seemed as if I sat there for a long time, but I didn’t. The moment the seat next to mine opened up, Tomas Goodfellow slid in beside me. My breath caught in my chest and a hum settled in the back of my throat. As much as I wanted to focus on the bartender, who flipped shot glasses and placed them in a perfect row for his cheering customers, my body always reacted the moment I saw Tomas.
Not a single person close to us knew they were drinking next to one of the richest hoteliers in the world. He was just Tomas to me.
I sucked in a deep breath. Memories of his strong citrus scent with a hint of spice flared in my mind. I could pick out the individual flavors: ginger, bergamot, cardamom, along with a hint of grapefruit and lavender. Damn, he always smelled good enough to eat.
Just a peek wouldn’t hurt.
Eyes forward, Carlie. Of course, I failed miserably and looked at him briefly. My eyes drank his face in from the curve of his strong jawline to his dark brown eyes. And his lips. Tomas had the kind of lips that were meant to be sampled. They were sensuously shaped, practically mocking me while I stared. When I turned my head just right, I could make out the slight upward tilt of the corners.
The bartender asked if he wanted anything.
“Vanilla vodka, please. Two shots in one glass,” he said.
Somehow, even though we stood next to each other, our bodies didn’t touch. The edge of his arm, where firm muscles bulged from underneath his dark gray shirt, was mere inches from mine. An itch formed along that tiny patch of skin. He radiated warmth and the need to slide into his arms grew overwhelming.
Tomas finished his drink quickly while I continued to sip mine.
“I’ve been watching you from across the room,” he said to me, a hint of his Portuguese accent touching his words. He had the kind of voice that slid up your inner thighs.
“Are you a stalker or something?” I whispered.
“Would you like for me to be?” His eyebrows lowered, and a dark smirk filled his face.
I smiled as he extended his hand toward me.
“I’m Tomas. What’s your name?”
“Grace.” Choosing my name for the evening was a game, too. So far I’d only picked virtuous names by alphabet: Amity, Charity, and now Grace.
“Do you come here often?” He gestured for the bartender to bring him another drink.
“Never been.”
His arm finally brushed against mine as he leaned closer. “Interesting choice.”
He asked me what I was doing in town, and as usual, I kept things vague. I was on a personal trip to find someone important and I needed a drink to settle my nerves. Which was the truth.
“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?” he asked me smoothly.
Did he mean my search for my parents or my desire to see him tonight?
Faintly, I felt his fingertips press on the middle of my back. A light caress meant to tease. I needed much more than that tonight.
“Not yet.” All this small talk was nice, but my patience was running out.
Down the bar, a group of women were eyeing Tomas. They smiled repeatedly and pointed in his direction. The countdown began until a drink would come his way. He had that effect on other women. Just like he did on me. What made me different was I told myself I didn’t care.
Less than a minute later, a glass of expensive brandy appeared—along with a business card with a phone number. “From the ladies down the bar,” the bartender said, “with their compliments.”
“Show-off,” I couldn’t help but whisper.
“Have you had any bought for you yet?” Tomas replied.
“The night is young. Sooner or later, someone will become brave enough to buy me a drink. But I think we should go somewhere quiet before the cougar club comes prowling your way.”
I slowly turned my head toward his, trying to keep myself from falling for him. The intensity of his gaze had a way of making me succumb every time.
“We should.” He placed a few bills on the bar to pay for both of our drinks.
Somehow, I added distance between us. For a fleeting moment, I told myself to walk away. If I were smart, I would’ve already buried my feelings as deeply as he did.
“Let’s go then,” I said.
I left first and he trailed behind me. Not once did he touch me. We left the Subarctic Club and made our way to the busy street. A Maserati sedan waited for us. Silence settled between us as we slipped inside. This was the game we always played. No polite conversation to ask how the other was doing or even a dinner to set the mood.
All these things were my own fault though.
I was the one who made Tomas this way.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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