by Cassie Cross
Seems I’ve caught his eye, too. That never happens to me.
His lips part when our eyes meet, like he wants to call out to me or something, but instead he keeps on staring. Staring in a way that makes my heart beat double time, that makes my knees weak. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t nod, doesn’t do anything other than look at me like he wants to devour me.
Without really thinking, I hurriedly make my way over, not even trying to play it cool. I slide between couples who are bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and when I reach Hot Guy, he smiles. It’s not the slick grin of a slime ball who knows he’s going to get laid tonight; it’s sweet and sexy, with just the hint of a dimple shining through.
“Hi,” he says, all soft and familiar despite the fact that we’re complete strangers.
“Hi.”
“I’m glad you came over.” He leans in close, and all I can think about is how good he smells. I want to press my face into his neck and breathe deep. I want his tongue to become familiar with every single inch of my body.
I’m feeling turned on and brazen, and the way Hot Guy’s eyes skate across my body makes me pretty confident that he feels the same way, too. That’s what gives me the courage to say, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who has difficulty making women come.”
I certainly hope not, at least.
Hot Guy lets out a shocked laugh, and his hazel eyes darken with something that looks a lot like lust. His hands find their way to the small of my back and he gives me a gentle tug, pulling me closer to him and away from the crowd.
“I’m not,” he replies, his scruff rasping against my skin as his lips brush the shell of my ear. “I can show you if you’d like.” His voice is low and rumbly; it gives me goose bumps all over.
I’d like that. Very much. I nod as my hand slips across his chest, over the solid, defined muscle underneath his soft cotton shirt.
“What’s your name?”
“Hunter,” he replies.
I turn my head and inhale, memorizing his scent as he pulls me closer. Even though I don’t feel threatened at all, there’s a comforting kind of safety in his arms that I hadn’t anticipated. The moment is perfect; I pretty much forget that we aren’t the only two people in the room.
Then Hunter’s muscles tighten beneath my hands, and his entire body tenses.
A spike of fear rushes through me, making my heart tap frantically against my breastbone, spreading a tingling rush out to my fingertips.
“Hayley,” he says soothingly.
But there’s nothing soothing about it, because I’m positive I didn’t tell him my name.
“I need you to trust me, okay?” Hunter’s eyes meet mine for one intense, drawn-out moment before his gaze flits back to the crowd. “Do as I say.”
Gunshots ring out before I have a chance to answer.
Hunter has me on the floor in the blink of an eye, my stomach pressed against the cold, unforgiving concrete as pieces of drywall rain down around me. He covers me like a blanket, cradling me against his chest, using his body to keep me safe. His hand shields my face from the falling debris, and the only thing that keeps me from screaming is his steady voice in my ear.
“I’ve got you,” he tells me. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I’m not sure why I believe him.
The gunshots stop abruptly and the guns clatter to the floor. The sickening thump of fists striking bodies fill the air as Hunter picks me up and ushers me out of the room, his body curled around mine, protecting me from any remaining danger.
In the chaos, I manage to catch a glimpse of Alexa. A burly guy is curled around her much like Hunter is curled around me.
I’m about to thank Hunter when he pulls me behind a curtain, between some A/V equipment and the club’s service entrance.
“C’mon.” He tugs my hand. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
I can’t help but scoff in spite of my gratitude. “I appreciate you saving my life back there, so don’t get me wrong, but why on earth would I go anywhere with you when someone was just shooting at you?”
Hunter’s face softens, all the urgency gone as he reaches up and cups my cheek.
“Hayley,” he says urgently. “They weren’t shooting at me. They were shooting at you.”
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About the Author
Cassie Cross is a Maryland native and a romantic at heart, who lives outside of Baltimore with her two dogs and a closet full of shoes. Cassie's fondness for swoon-worthy men and strong women are the inspiration for most of her stories, and when she's not busy writing a book, you’ll probably find her eating takeout and indulging in her love of 80's sitcoms.
Cassie loves hearing from her readers, so please follow her on Twitter or leave a review for this book on the site you purchased it from. Thank you!
www.cassiecross.com
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