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Technically, I didn't know where her bedroom was, but I suspected her upstairs layout mirrored my own.
LunafuckingMarks.
The woman who stirred something in me. Something I hadn't felt with anyone else.
That night we met had been the most memorable sexual experience of my life. But it wasn't just about the sex. No, it washer.
The way her red hair fell in a curtain around her face. The blunt bangs gave her an edge that I found intriguing. The quirk in her smile even more so.
Luna Marks was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted. Her success wasn't by accident. No, she worked hard in business, honing her image and she knew her mind.
Andthatnight I thought our minds had been as in sync as our bodies.
I thought she was the fucking one for me.
The giddy smile I wore the day after made my face ache, and I didn't even care.
Then I called her that night, after thinking about her all day. The line trilled, and I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her. I'd been practicing it in my head all day.
The line trilled and trilled some more.
“Paccino’s Pizza. May I take your order?” a man answered.
My smile faltered.
I glanced down at my phone, my brows furrowed. “Sorry, wrong number.”
I ended the call and then glanced at the contact information I’d input. I read the digits one by one, comparing them to the Sharpie on my arm where I’d written the number as Luna relayed it to me post orgasm.
“We have to do this again. Listen up, buttercup,” she had said to me. Then Luna proceeded to rattle off her digits, but my phone was buried under my clothes somewhere in the entryway of my apartment where I had shed them earlier.
Too far.They'd been too far, so I used the nearest tool at my disposal. I grabbed the Sharpie from my nightstand and wrote it on my arm and transferred it to my phone later.
After calling the number again and getting the same result, I realized what happened.
She gave me a fake number.
What a slap in the face.
I nursed beer after beer that night…
An incessant knock on the front door pulled me out of the past, thrusting me back into the present.
Took her long enough.
I threw my covers off, padding down the hallway and the stairs.
The Steele Cyber Security app on my phone confirmed my suspicions.
I opened the door wide. “Hello, Marks.”
She glared. “Bennet.”
We stood there, staring at each other. She was as beautiful as ever, even though her makeup had been wiped clean from her face. Her hair pulled back in a messy high bun on top of her head.
What the fuck was she wearing? I couldn't help myself as my eyes traveled down her tight and toned body. She'd encased it in black leggings, which served as a second skin. Her breasts strained against the black crop top she’d paired with the tight leggings.
Christ, I could see her nipples through the fabric.