But nope, apparently, all I can do is smile dumbly at this guy.
I feel a sudden sharp pain in my side as Erin nudges me in the ribs. It jolts me out of my momentary stupor, enough for me to tear my eyes away from Adonis himself.
Erin’s looking back and forth between me and this guy, then she smiles waaaay too innocently.
“I’m headed downstairs. Catch you later, Emilia.”
She’s gone before I can even process that she totally just ditched me for the night. But right now, I could practically kiss her for it. Because Hottie McHotterson reaches out his hand and takes mine, drawing it up to the very lips I can’t tear my eyes from.
“Emilia.”
He smiles again, sending a vibration of anticipation rocketing through my body.
“I’m Evan.”
Evan
Fuck.
If I’d known the Bradford had residents like Emilia, I would have taken my
friend Andy’s advice a long time ago and moved here sooner.
I barely even register her friend leaving, though I’m fucking glad to be alone with her now.
I’ve only lived here a week, and I’ve been busy getting unpacked—when I’m not working, which is pretty much always—so it’s the first time I’ve made it up to the lounge.
I thought I’d do a little pre-gaming before heading out on the town, but let’s be real: I’m perfectly fine with staying in tonight if it means I need to do my neighborly duty and get more intimately acquainted with my fellow residents.
Or just the one.
“Leaving so soon, Emilia?” I say, her slight fingers still gripped firmly in mine. “What are you drinking?”
Not ‘Can I buy you a drink, Emilia?’, because fuck that.
Why pretend like she isn’t about to sit that tight little ass right back down and let me buy her whatever I want?
She blinks, her bright blue eyes dilated with desire that I know I fucking put there. Yep, got this one in the bag.
Then Emilia does something that shocks me to my core.
“Nice to meet you, Evan.” She pulls her hand from mine. “But I already have plans.”
She gives me a sassy, little smile—and fuck me, she even has a cute, little dimple—then spins on her Louboutins and starts to strut away.
And yeah, I know the name of her designer shoes. What can I say? I’m a fan of the finer things in life. Plus I’ve had more than one pair of them wrapped around me in my day.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I reach out and wrap my fingers tightly around her wrist. She’s stalking off with such momentum that the sudden opposing force has her rebounding right back toward me—slamming right into my chest.
The air rushes out of her in an audible gasp. And fucking hell, do I want to find out what other kinds of sounds she might make as our bodies collide.
The impact nearly knocks us off balance, and I instinctively wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from falling.
She glances up at me, pressed against my chest, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she shuts that shit down, replacing it with a haughty glare.
“Excuse me, Evan. But I have somewhere to be.” Her voice is like ice.
And I fucking love it.