Twisted By Desire

“Nikki, beautiful name; I’m Connor,” We shook hands, and I gave him a quick smile. Connor was good-looking, and he had a beautiful smile. He wasn’t on his friend’s level, but good-looking.

I looked over at his friend, who was about five feet from us. Before I could stop myself, I all but jumped off the bar stool and took a couple steps to meet him. I extended my hand to shake his and introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Nikki.”

Our gazes crossed for the first time. His dark, piercing eyes sang the seductive tune, come-hither-and-let-me-fuck-you-senseless. The woodsy, citrus smell of his cologne immobilized me. Everything about him was hypnotic.

“Jeff.” His outstretched hand met mine. Tingles cruised through me, and butterflies danced in my stomach. My heart pounded against my chest, feeling like it was going to burst through my rib cage.

“It’s… it’s nice to meet …you.” Spoken like a true stammering jackass, yet he was calm and cool. I felt my face heat and flush. He was so tall, I’m six feet one in my heels, and he was easily four or five inches taller than me.

“Nice to meet you.” Jeff shifted his eyes down at me with a smirk that screamed, ‘oh, God, not another one.’ Conceited bastard probably thinks I’m a stupid groupie. He turned away from me, while my roaming eyes glanced down again to make sure there wasn’t a ring on his finger. I wondered if he’d felt the same thing I had when he touched me.

He pulled his hand back, then slid them both in the pockets of his slacks pulling the fabric taut across the front. Good mother of God, is that the outline of his peen? My breath hitched. I snapped my eyes back up to his face to avoid being caught checking out his junk.

We exchanged the ‘do you come here often’ banter and other forced small talk before I peeked at my phone, seeing it was almost ten o’clock. Connor was doing most of the talking. I got the feeling he was never at a loss for words. It felt weird talking to them, watching Jeff’s eyes roam the restaurant. I couldn’t help but speculate that he was looking for someone and I was curious what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

“I hate to meet and run, but I need to get home. Cinderella’s going to turn back into a ragamuffin,” I joked. Jesus fucking hell, I was standing there in my H&M special, and they were dressed to the hilt. I was already a ragamuffin to them.

“I always thought midnight was the bewitching hour,” Tristan chimed in.

“Not tonight.” I turned to Candace and Tristan to tell them good-bye. Tristan reached forward and wrapped his arms around me. Really? Are you trying to stake claim to me? I wanted to grab his fingers, bend them back one at a time, and pry his freaking hands off me; instead, I shrugged myself free and then told him and Candace bye.

Turning back to Connor and Jeff, I flashed a quick smile. “Maybe I’ll see you guys around sometime.”

As I reached for my purse and grabbed my cellphone off the bar, Connor reached across and slid a business card into my hand. “Stay in touch,” he said with a wink. “We’re going to have to get going, too. It’s late; we can walk you to your car if you want.”

“I’m fine, but thanks for the offer.” I smiled at Connor. “I’m parked right out front.” I smiled again at both of them, gave a quick Miss America hand wave, and headed toward the front door.

Once in my car, I looked at the business card. It was Jeff’s card, not Connor’s. Connor must be the wingman.

He’d acted so aloof; maybe he wasn’t interested. Well, I am, and I have his business card.

One nagging thought was for certain; I felt like an ass for throwing myself at him. I slipped the card in the outside zipper pocket of my purse.