Love At First Kiss (Love Comes First 1)

What the hell am I going to say to a bunch of millionaires? What do I have in common with CEOs and hedge fund managers? Oh man, this was a bad idea. I wonder if it’s too late to get out of it.

Yes, it’s too late! The limo is already here!

My hands are all sweaty and I nearly chew myself out when I catch myself wiping my clammy palms on my $5,500 dress.

The driver opens his door and gets out as I timidly approach the limo like it’s a black dragon about to devour me.

Before he makes it around to my side, the back door flies open and a man in a tuxedo explodes out of the vehicle.

“Oh,” I say, taken aback as he towers up in front of me. He’s… gorgeous.

This is Brooke’s brother? How is he single? How is that possible??

I was expecting a computer nerd and I got James Bond.

He’s staring at me like he can’t believe his eyes. At first, I think he must be disappointed by the choice his sister made for him, but then I realize there’s desire in his hungry gaze.

Thank you, Carolina Herrera. You outdid yourself this time.

“Hello,” I say shyly.

His dark blue eyes travel up and down my body, stopping for a long moment on my chest. I can feel my nipples hardening and I get a warm shiver as he shamelessly admires my cleavage.

I never thought I’d be attracted to a man in a bow tie, but holy fuck, this guy has my breath quickening as I look him over. His black tux and white shirt is all crisp and clean-cut against his firm muscular body. I force my hands to stay by my sides to prevent them from reaching out and touching the soft material like they desperately want to.

But the well-groomed hottie wearing the suit looks anything but soft. His eyes are dark and full of… something as he looks down at me like he’s going to steal me and lock me away.

His eyes are mesmerizing. Everything about this man is captivating. From his perfectly styled brown hair, to his jaw that has just the right amount of stubble, to his lips that look so unbelievably kissable.

How does this man have to pay for a date? How is there not a line-up of women wrapped around the block waiting for their turn to drape their arm around his big round bicep?

“You must be Brooke’s friend,” he says in a deep voice that leaves a trail of warm shivers as it teases through my body.

I have to clear my throat before I can talk, and even then, my voice comes out all scratchy and broken. “Yes. I’m Arya Hendrix.”

“I guess my little sister knows me pretty well,” he whispers under his breath. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself.

“So, we’re going to a charity gala?” I ask nervously as his heated eyes bore into me.

He doesn’t answer. I’m not sure if he hates the dress or maybe he thinks I’m showing too much cleavage?

“What kind of charity is it?” I ask as my nerves start taking over. It’s incredibly unnerving to be standing in front of this gorgeous man as he stares at me in this dress.

“Turtles.”

Apparently, he’s as abrupt in real life as he is in his texts.

“Oh,” I say, swallowing hard. “Cool.”

“Should we get going?” the chauffeur asks. I jump, not even realizing he was standing there.

He holds the car door open for me, but Nolan elbows his way in and grabs it from him. “Go back in the car,” he grunts. “Keep your eyes on the road. Not on my girl.”

My cheeks start getting very hot as the chauffeur quickly rushes back to the driver’s door. I guess we’re already starting the charade.

“Thanks, honey,” I say with a bright smile as I climb into the limo.

Holy. Shit.

It’s crazy in here. This is the first time I’ve been in a limo and I really hope that it’s not my last.

I’m busy checking out the bar when Nolan slips in and closes the door. He looked big outside, but he looks even larger crammed inside here.

“Are these drinks free?” I ask as I pick up a cute little bottle of Vodka.

“Are you twenty-one?”

I smile as my heart pounds. “In three months!”

He sits right beside me to the point where our legs are touching. I get a whiff of his cologne and it sets a fire between my legs. He takes the bottle from my hand, touching my fingers with his, and takes out two glasses.

“Not too strong for me,” I say as he pours the vodka out between the two. “I’m a lightweight.”

He adds 7-Up and some ice, and then hands a glass to me.

I take a sip, but he’s too busy staring at me to take his own.