Page 4 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU

RASMUS

“Please tell me you’ve got us on a VIP list or something?” I shoot a wary glance at Beck.

“Oh please, have a little faith in me.” He tugs at the lapels of his jacket. “Of course we’re on the list.”

“Thank fuck,” I mutter.

We step out of the sleek black town car and walk toward the VIP entrance. The bouncer, a towering guy with arms as thick as tree trunks, spots Beck, and his posture eases. He greets my linemate as if they’re old friends. Who knows, maybe they are. Beck seems to have connections everywhere we go.

“Ready to party?” Lloyd asks, paying special attention to three women walking past us. Their tight leather costumes glint under the streetlights, highlighting every curve of their bodies. “I surely am. I mean, look at them.”

Ford rolls his eyes. “Focus, Romeo. We haven’t even made it inside, and you’re already ogling the women.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Lloyd teases and opens the door for us. “After you, gentlemen.”

Massive chandeliers hang from lofty ceilings, making the entire place sparkle. A DJ I recognize from social media plays a remix of current hit songs, and the main dancefloor is filled to the brim with people shaking their bodies to the beat of the music.

Ford leads us toward one of the bars, his modest yet confident presence parting the sea of partygoers as though he owns the place.

Lloyd, on the other hand, is checking out every woman in our proximity.

Their costumes range from impressive to something my abuela would’ve called scandalous.

The amount of skin on display reminds me of my teen years and how I dreamed about one day attending a party like this.

Realizing we’ve lost one of our posse, I stop the other two. “Where the fuck is Beck?”

“He saw one of his old college buddies right when we walked in,” Ford explains.

“Figures.”

The bartender, a woman with sleek black hair and a colorful Venetian-style mask, greets Lloyd with a hungry look that lingers a second too long.

“Three of your top-shelf tequila,” he slides his black credit card across the counter .

My eyes drift across the club. The sea of costumed people overwhelms me, making my head spin. I’m not one for big crowds, and Halloween seems to only intensify that feeling.

Then I spot her, and a sense of calm settles over me. The noise of the club and all the partygoers quickly fade into the background. Nothing else matters when I’ve got a direct line to her beauty.

She leans casually against the bar, a glass of champagne in her hand.

Her fiery dark hair cascades over her shoulders in waves, framing her stunning features.

She’s dressed in a skin-tight dark red dress that flawlessly hugs her tall, toned frame.

That piece of fabric is the dangerous kind of sexy, the kind that can make a man lose control.

Her gaze shifts, and our eyes meet. A shimmering heat spreads through my chest, tightening around my ribs like a vice.

Fuck me. Those eyes make her even more beautiful, if possible. How has a single glance utterly wrecked me?

Her expression is unreadable at first, but as she scans me up and down, those tempting lips curve, promising trouble.

“Yo, Ras!” Lloyd’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s holding up two glasses. “You gonna toast with us, or are you busy making heart eyes at that woman over there?”

Grabbing my drink, my focus doesn’t waver from her. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.”

I step away from the bar and take deliberate steps toward the lady in red.

“There you are.” I keep my tone casual but flash her a grin. “I’ve been looking for you. ”

“Bold of you to assume I wanted to be found.”

I chuckle, taking a slow sip of my drink. The tequila burns nicely as it goes down. “Even bolder to think I wouldn’t try anyway.”

“Persistent, are you?”

“That’s one word for it.”

Her light laugh sends a shiver through my body. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to be the reason she does it again. “And what exactly do you plan to do now that you’ve found me?”

“Depends. You gonna tell me your name? Or shall I pick something inspired by the color red?”

She arches a perfectly shaped brow. “What if I enjoy being mysterious?”

“Poppy it is, then.”

“And what should I call you then?”

“Whatever you want.”

She raises her glass in a toast. “Alright then, Mister . Let’s see if you’re as charming as you think you are.”

Our glasses clink, and I suggest, “Let’s find a quieter place for you to make that judgment.”

“You think you can keep my attention that long?”

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

She briefly studies me, finishes her drink and sets the glass on the bar. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”

The heavy bass of the music pulses through the club as I lead Poppy toward the VIP area closest to us. Her hand feels impossibly perfect in mine. The way her delicate fingers curl around my calloused ones makes me want to hold onto her for longer than tonight.

“Here we are.” I motion toward the black seats surrounding the low stone table with bottles of champagne and a bucket of ice on top. “You want to drink something else?”

Her lips curve into an easy smile that makes my stomach flip. “The night is still young, so that’ll do it for now.” She glances around, then adds with a shrug, “My friends left, but I wasn’t ready to call it yet. Figured one more drink wouldn’t hurt. And I was right.”

Those words feel like a promise.

Grabbing an open bottle, I fill the glasses and hand one to her before sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her.

“Now that we can talk without the music drowning our voices,” I say, my tone playful, “tell me more about yourself, Poppy.”

She swirls her champagne and takes a long sip. “What if we don’t exchange any personal details tonight?”

“What do you mean?” I rest an arm casually along the backrest.

“What if,” she starts, her voice smooth, “we simply have fun tonight. No attachments, no names, no life histories.”

I’m torn—a big part of me is tempted to say yes.

I’m so tired of women who only want me because I’m a famous hockey player who earns millions.

For the first time in a long time, I can be whoever without consequences.

But there’s something about her that wants me to share every little detail about my life .

“No names. No personal details. Just us?” I clarify.

Her smile widens, her confidence shining through. “Exactly. Just us.”

“If that’s what the lady wants, who am I to say no?” I raise my glass, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. “To the mystery of life.”

We tap glasses, and she sips her drink, her expression turning thoughtful. “We agreed on no details, but do I hear a slight accent?”

“Yeah, guilty as charged.” I chuckle. “I grew up in Sweden but moved to the States for college. Been here ever since.”

“Interesting,” she muses. “So, do you live somewhere close?”

“Nope. Twin Cities area. I’m here for work.”

Her eyes light up, her excitement palpable. “Oh, so you’re about to get snow soon. Lucky you. I freaking love winter and everything to do with it.”

“I have to warn you, winter in Minnesota is not as romantic as it sounds. You’ll be shoveling snow before you know it,” I tell her, my tone teasing. “If you love snow, you’d have loved my college winters in Upstate New York.”

“I know. It’s not the same here in the City,” Poppy says wistfully. “Here winter feels different. It's less magical, more slush. Unless it’s the holiday season. Then it’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Minneapolis is an extreme level of cold, though. Not everyone enjoys it. We have snow and ice in layers, subzero temperatures, and wind that cuts through you as sharply as a hockey blade. ”

Her laugh is melodic. “Sounds perfect for me.”

“Be careful what you wish for. Minnesota winters aren’t for the faint of heart.”

“I’m sure I’d be okay. No biggie.”

“You might rethink that after a week. But if you still feel the same, we’ll talk.”

Her light green eyes glint with amusement. She takes another sip of the champagne, her gaze steady on mine. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable. It’s magnetic with the promise of what might come later tonight.

“You’re different,” she says softly, almost to herself.

I tilt my head. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But you’re not putting on a show the way most guys do. You’re present. It’s kind of addictive.”

That hits somewhere deep. A place I don’t let people see often. I fight the urge to ask for her real name right then.

“You’re not what I expected either.”

“Good unexpected?”

“The best kind.”

Setting my glass on the table, I stand and offer her a hand. “Dance with me?”

Her smile deepens as she slides her hand into mine, her touch already familiar against my palm. “Lead the way.”

I draw her to me once we get to the dance floor. She rests her hands lightly on my shoulders, her fingertips grazing the fabric of my suit jacket. It’s the softest of touches, yet it tightens every nerve in my body .

Our bodies fall into rhythm with ease, familiar and effortless, as though we’ve done this a hundred times before.

My hands settle on her waist, and she doesn’t hesitate to move her curves pressing flush against me.

Her scent—something floral with a hint of vanilla—wraps around me, and I can’t get enough.

The rest of the world fades away as we keep dancing. It’s just her and me now, our bodies moving in perfect sync. Her breath teases my neck, her thigh brushing against mine, and the way her hips move with mine should be illegal.

Every inch of her is a temptation, and I’m powerless against the magnetic pull she has on me. It’s fucking torture, but in the best way possible. I have to keep reminding myself we’ve only just met. This is all too intense for something so new.

The DJ shifts into a slower, more seductive track after a string of dance hits. Poppy’s fingers curl into my chest, and she looks up at me with those wide, uncertain yet lustful eyes that make my heart beat harder.

I know what she’s feeling. It’s the same pull that’s been building between us since the moment we locked eyes. But there's hesitation there too. Whether it’s doubt or something else, I can’t tell.

“Is this too much?” I ask, my voice low and rough.

Her lips part, and I can feel the hesitation dissolve, replaced by something far more dangerous. “No,” she says, the word barely audible over the music, but it’s all I need to hear.

“Good.” My breath mingles with hers next. “Because I really want to kiss you.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into her signature smile—mischievous and inviting all at once. “Then what are you waiting for? ”

I close the small space between us, brushing my mouth against hers, tentative at first, as if testing how we fit together. She runs her tongue along my lips, making me open up more.

I moan when I taste her sweetness for the first time. Her response is immediate—her fingers curl around my neck, tugging me closer. The kiss deepens, wild and hungry.

She tastes like champagne and promises of good times. The way she presses against me feels divine, her body fitting against mine seamlessly. Her curves mold against the hard planes of my body, her hands tucking into my hair as if she can’t get enough…and I fucking love it.

My hand slides to the small of her back, memorizing every inch on its way. If we weren’t at the club, it would be traveling up the slit of the dress instead.

Poppy pulls back to meet my gaze, her lips swollen and her breaths shallow. Her pupils are blown wide while her chest rises and falls rapidly. She’s fighting the same lust that I am.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at the bar,” she confesses, her voice breathless. “And it was so much better than I expected.”

My pulse quickens at her words. Her honesty is electrifying. And my mind and body crave more. The way she looks at me, like she’s no longer holding back, only stokes the fire inside me.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, “for it to feel this way after one kiss.”

Her eyes darken with a hint of something deeper, something that mirrors the hunger building inside me. The tension is charged as if the universe itself is daring us to push further .

She leans in again, her mouth less than an inch away from mine. “Maybe we should see what else is possible.”

She claims my lips again, leaving no room for doubt about where our night is heading.