My Anonymous Lover (Forbidden Fantasies 57)

Meanwhile, Jeremiah continues to shake hands and smile like a natural politician. He turns this way and that, charming women while pressing the flesh with businessmen, flashing that white smile as people crowd around him. But then, he turns his head unexpectedly, and our eyes catch. The oxygen departs my lungs as my heart begins to race. It’s as if electricity shoots between us, and he appears just as startled. Does he recognize me? But that can’t be because we’ve never met.

Internally, I’m frantically trying to figure out what to do. Wave? Smile? Look away? The last option is out of the question because our eyes are locked together, and somehow, the rest of the world has melted away. It’s just the two of us, and if anything, his gaze seems to sharpen as he zeroes in on my curvy figure. The corners of his lips quirk up for a brief moment as if he’s trying to hide a smirk before remembering where he is.

Suddenly, the world comes back into focus, and loud chatter fills my ears as I blink, disoriented. Did that just happen? Jeremiah’s already back to pressing the flesh like nothing’s happened even as I feel my pulse race. Yes, that happened. We connected on some primal level, but the question is why? I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.

Meanwhile, Vanessa tugs my arm.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” she sighs dreamily. “OMG, he’s like a male model but even better because fashion models are so thin. Those guys can fit into my pants, but not him. Jeremiah Cooke is one hundred percent super studmuffin.”

That shakes me out of my trance.

“Super studmuffin?” I manage in an arch tone. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Vanessa says with a sparkle to her eye. “I mean, look at that man’s ass. Wouldn’t you want take a bite out of it? Yum yum.”

I sneak a quick look, but the handsome man’s wearing a suit jacket, although I’m sure his ass is carved like wood under the expensive fabric.

“Please, girl,” I grin, rolling my eyes. “You’re so crazy.”

“I am,” Vanessa confirms with a smug smile. “Come on, let’s go get something to drink. Then we can ogle our new mayor to our heart’s content because this event is for him. If we’re not looking at him, then what should we be looking at?” she asks innocently.

With that, we make our way across the room to the beverage station, but when we get to the table, I turn and sure enough, Jeremiah’s eyes are on me. Awareness flushes my body and I feel myself go flaming hot as my thighs squeeze together. Yes, we definitely know each other from somewhere, but the question is where?

5

JEREMIAH

“Thank you for coming out tonight. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me, and I’m going to work hard to make Sugar the most attractive place to live in South Texas,” I intone in a deep baritone as supporters fawn before me. To be honest, I’m mildly shocked and majorly impressed by the way my mouth moves without me even having to think about what I’m saying. Even better, my words sound sincere even though I can barely hear myself speak. After all, I’m caught up in my own head, thinking about the woman who looks like Wonder Woman. Who is she? I swear, I know her from somewhere.

She stands out because most of the ladies at this campaign event are pretty drab. Don’t get me wrong, this is a political fundraiser so I’m not expecting any peacocks, but the women I’ve met seem washed out and pencil thin. Meanwhile, the gorgeous woman I connected with has ink-black hair with creamy skin so smooth it looks made of pure vanilla. Her body is a sumptuous hourglass shape, and my hands itch to stroke over those big breasts before giving her solid rump a squeeze.

But I know I should be focused on the conversation before me, and not daydreaming about a woman I don’t even know. This event is a big deal, after all. I’m talking to potential donors, and I need to win them over if I want to have a fighting chance at winning this election. Even so, I can’t stop thinking about that beautiful woman.

Suddenly, realization hits. I do know her. She’s the woman I had sex with at that truck stop just a week ago. The one with the dirty mouth, wet pussy, and wild ways.

Holy shit. I know it’s her. It has to be.

It’s not like I got a good look at her face, but I did catch a glimpse and my lover at that truck stop had the same ebony hair, bright blue eyes, and flawless skin. There certainly aren’t many women who can replicate that.

Plus, my bones tell me it’s her, and I’ve learned to trust my intuition over the years. As soon as I set eyes on her curvy form, something shuddered deep in my gut and it was instant recognition. Our souls have met, and now, I know where and when.