Page 2 of Husband to Go

I look up to find Mr. Sexy standing right in front of me. He is stupid hot up close. Almost too hot for words. Dark hair, blue eyes, solid body, everything just perfect.

I want to reach out and touch him.

In fact, I want to reach out and do a lotmorethan touch him, but this isn’t the time. I shake out my thoughts and bring myself back to reality.

“Hi. Um, hello. How are you?” Do I sound too drunk? I feel a little out of it, and I’m positive I sound like an idiot. That last tequila shot really hit different somehow.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding quite amused. At least that’s better than upset. It means I might have a chance, a chance to maybe get in those pants.

Ugh, that was a corny thought.

“Did you want to come in?” He cocks an eyebrow, inviting me to venture into his little secluded part of the club. I’m surprised he’s so willing to let me, a stranger, pass, but I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah!” I say, jumping on the opportunity. With limited grace, I wrangle the velvet rope so that I’m past it, and shoot him a shaky smile. The man grins and goes back to his seat, but I look around quickly. After all, you don’t get that many opportunities to be in the VIP section.

From this vantage point, you can see everything going on in the club. My friends are still huddled around one another, enjoying the music. I wonder if this guy just came to people watch? He wasn’t on the dance floor earlier because it would have been hard to miss him. He must turn heads everywhere he goes.

So, did he come here to hang out? I swing towards the handsome man, putting on my best smile. He looks amused.

“You can sit if you want,” he says, patting the couch beside him.

“Oh thanks,” I manage in a tolerably normal tone. Maybe I’m being too bold as I sit close to him, my curves almost rubbing up against his hard, masculine frame. We’re not alone per se, but at least we’rerathersecluded.

But I can’t help myself, so I smile again. His smirk widens.

Sitting this close to him, I can see Mr. Mysterious is quite a bit older than me. At least in his forties, not that that’s making him any less sexy. In fact, I think I’m hotter under the collar because of it – I like a guy with some experience. God, I hope that doesn’t make me weird.

His eyes scan my body, moving with a delicious slowness. They’re boring through me, getting down to my very essence.

“So, do you come here often?” he rumbles.

A chuckle escapes before I can smother it. It sounds like I’m choking on something, which is unattractive to say the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” Oh no, I’m already messing up. This guy is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, but my flirting game iswayoff. Not that it was veryonto begin with.

“Yeah?”

“It’s just that,” I start backtracking, “I’m not used to being hit on. I’m sorry,” I apologize, wrinkling my nose.

Ugh. I sound like a dumb little girl. He didn’t hit on me and he possibly can’t be interested in someone like me, not really. He probably wants someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

Why do I have to act so stupid? I could kick myself from embarrassment. One of his brows arches.

“I can’t believe that,” he says. My forehead furrows.

“Why not?” I ask. After all, it makes sense. I’ve never really been able to attract the opposite sex. Maybe it’s because my boobs are too big or the fact that my head is always buried in a book. I don’t know, but there’s something about me that repels the male gender. My mother would say I just lack the necessary skills, but I’m not even sure whatthatmeans.

“You’re much too pretty to ignore,” he rumbles with another amused smile.

“Oh, thanks!” I say quickly. “Um, great.”

His hand lands on my knee, snaking up to my inner thigh.

“Is this okay?” His fingers massage my thigh, tickling my insides. I’m hyper aware of everything around me: the music, the lights, people dancing, talking, and laughing. Hot breath skims the outside of my ear.

“This is great,” I say, barely able to breathe. My heart is going at a million miles an hour, and I feel like I might hyperventilate at any second.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.