She stared at me from across the smoky dimness of the hotel bar, and I found myself staring right back at her.
I had done a quick scan of the room when I had first arrived—surely because I was hoping for the sight of her. But as my newfound friends began approaching me, I had just as quickly gotten lost in one conversation after the other. Only a few mentions of her had let me know that she was, in fact, also there.
I had been handed a drink and invited to dance to the blaring music bouncing off the walls. Soon enough, thoughts of her had fled my mind. Less than an hour later, I was back at the bar, sweating lightly and a bit out of breath.
I signaled to the wiry bartender that I needed a refill and then I turned to watch the sea of bodies on the dance floor as I waited.
It was then that I felt it—that discomfort one gets when they know they are being stared at. I turned my head to find the source, only to have my eyes lock with hers.
She stood at the other end of the bar, casually leaning against the wood. The place was dark, but a soft light from the bar hit her just enough so that her identity was unmistakable.
She wore a plain, light-colored shirt over jeans and a pair of boots, and yet nothing about the way that the clothes hugged her curves could be deemed simple. Her short, dark, uneven curls perfectly framed her face. The light softened and, at the same time, highlighted her cheekbones. Her expression, however, was entirely inscrutable.
I stood there unable to look away, completely transfixed by her—this woman who I did not really know, had barely interacted with in the two months we had been in the same program, and had not seen for thirty days since said program had ended. But goddamn if she hadn't been incessant in my head for the past couple of weeks.
It hit me then just how illogically and yet, completely smitten I was with her.
'Out of my league,' my brain reminded me. Still, I did not look away. 'She probably wasn't even looking at me anyway,' I thought as the bartender placed a drink in my hand.
She straightened up, cocked her head almost imperceptibly to the side, and slightly raised the glass of brandy I now noticed was cradled in her right hand.
Okay, so maybe she
was
looking at me. What was I supposed to with that information?
I was saved by a couple of friends coming over, still high from their stint on the dance floor and excitedly talking over the other. I smiled and laughed along on all the appropriate moments, but their words barely registered. I was heady, my mind clouded with thoughts of her and the unreadable way she had looked at me.
I glanced back to where she had been. She was about a foot further away from the bar, now in conversation with someone else as well. They were positioned so that she was slightly angled from me, giving me her profile—and a chance for me to peruse her without her knowing.
I took my time, smiling at the way her soft curls bounced at the slightest movement of her head. I admired the fine arches of her brows, the chiseled lines of her cheekbones, and the smooth ridge of her nose. Her jaw line was firm, but her chin was feminine. Her facial features were a contrast of hard and soft all over. God, she was beautiful.
I made a pretense of nodding to what one of my friends was saying as my eyes traveled to her neck and further down, appreciating her full form.
Her height had always been impressive. Taller than most women, and yet all limbs flawlessly in proportion. I had never really been into tall women, no matter how gorgeous they might be, but this particular tall woman? Definitely into her.
She laughed at something her friend had said, and my eyes were immediately drawn back to her lips, and then at the hand she softly laid on her friend's shoulder. My eyes took in her arm, tanned and toned, and I watched the muscles slightly ripple as she gave her friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Damn.
I have always been a sucker for great smiles and putty for strong arms. I shifted uncomfortably in my jeans, feeling the sudden heat in my loins.
She picked that moment to glance my way and, for a second, that gorgeous smile remained in place. But then it vanished, her expression once again unfathomable, her gaze holding mine as she straightened up.
I watched her excuse herself from her friend and begin walking towards my direction. I held my breath, unsure of what I would do if she actually spoke to me. She walked with a certainty in her steps and a sway on her hips that I couldn't ignore. Jesus, was that all I could ever think about?
When it came to her? Yes.
My heartbeat sped up as she neared, and again, I shifted nervously. A couple of feet away, however, she changed direction. She instead headed towards the door, but not without first nodding at me. She inclined her head slightly as she passed like some sort of invitation to follow her.
For a moment, I forgot how to move. She stopped when she got to the door and looked back at me. Again, that minor tilt of her head as if to say, "Well, are you coming?"
It was then that my brain kicked into gear and my limbs stirred. I grabbed and downed the shot that my friend was about to drink—tequila, from the taste of it—before starting towards the door. She had opened and left through it as soon as she saw me moving.
Now outside the bar, I stood there wondering where the hell I was supposed to go next. I looked at the hallway to my right, scarce with people, and tried to find her.
Suddenly, my arm was grabbed from behind and I was pulled towards the elevators. My feet walked willingly, trying to keep up with her quick pace, but all I could think of was how she—the woman I had been crushing very hard on these past few weeks—was finally touching me.
The elevator opened and a couple of people got out. Without looking at me, she softly pulled me along as she got in. There was just the two of us as I stood behind her, knowing nothing of her plans and motives. I knew my blood felt alive, though. My heartbeat was practically audible as she pushed a floor number.
It was as the elevator doors closed that she finally turned to face me, pushing me back gently, yet firmly, against the wall. I looked up at her silently, seeing the color of her eyes—a lighter shade of brown—for the first time. I still couldn't read her expression. Was she angry at me?
"You don't stare at people that way," she said now, her hands still against my shoulder.
It was a fraction of a moment before I found my voice.
"What way?" I asked her, my eyes dropping to her lips. I had no idea what she was talking about. One thing for sure, though, I was definitely turned on by this little display of power. But then again, I already knew that about my deviant self so I was not the least bit surprised.
Her dark brows furrowed slightly. "
That
