Marked

The blond looked over at us, wrapped his arm around the brunette, and gave me a wink. “Hope we didn’t keep you up last night.”

The woman giggled, and the two of them walked down the hallway, the sound of the hotel room door closing loud and echoing off the walls.

Here I stood, right in front of Mr. Dark and Sexy, neither one of us speaking, but my face feeling hot as embarrassment flooded me. Okay, it hadn’t been him I heard having sex last night, but his buddy and that woman.

He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, the corner of his mouth tipping up as amusement played across his face. “You were saying?”

I tipped my chin up and cleared my throat, narrowing my eyes. “How was I supposed to know it was your friend banging some chick, and not you?” I wasn’t going to apologize, not with how arrogant he was being right then. And I couldn’t help but feel annoyance that he looked at me with cockiness on his face, as if he were pleased I was embarrassed by the whole situation.

And his smirk was doing nothing but pissing me off. Without the alcohol buzzing through my veins, I could see this man was arrogant. But not in an asshole, douchebag way. I didn’t get that vibe from him. But he liked the fact that he’d been right and I’d been wrong. And despite that being an obnoxious trait, I couldn’t help but also find it attractive as hell.

I cleared my throat and gave him the sweetest smile I could muster, showing him it wouldn’t bother me. I would’ve had no problem apologizing for my mistake, if he hadn’t been so damn good-looking as he grinned at me, as if he were waiting for me to take my foot out of my mouth.

“Sorry about the misunderstanding,” I did end up saying, because I wasn’t a total bitch. “Have a great day.” I started to walk past him. The feeling of his hand wrapped around my wrist instantly reminded me of last night. My body heated, chills racing up my arms and legs. I should’ve shrugged him off, told him to let go, but the truth was, I liked his touch.

I looked over my shoulder at him, tilting my head back so I could see into his face. God, he seemed so much taller and bigger than he had last night. His eyes were dark, penetrating as he stared at me, the amusement gone off his face, a serious expression now replacing it.

“What’s your name?” His voice was a deep drawl I felt in every erogenous zone in my body.

“Izzy,” I said without even thinking, without even missing a beat. I wanted him to know my name. I wanted him to say it, to hear how it sounded as it rolled off his tongue. And as if he read my mind, I watched as his mouth opened, heard how he said my name in the sexiest damn voice I’d ever heard in my life.

“Izzy.”

The air left me on a whoosh and I faced him, his hand still wrapped around my wrist as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Don’t you want to know who I am?”

Only a foot separated us, but it felt like I was pressed right up against him, his body heat, the scent of him, washing over me and making my head dizzy, my knees weak.

I would’ve said I already knew who he was, Mr. Dark and Sexy, but thankfully common sense and rationalization kept my mouth shut. I licked my lips and nodded, even though I probably shouldn’t care who he was, right? But there was no denying there was an absolute connection I felt between us, this feeling that had excitement moving through me that went beyond basic attraction.

The slow smile that crept across his face had my toes curling. God, what was it about this man that made me feel so on edge, like a high schooler finally getting to talk to her crush for the very first time?

“I’m Tommy Harrison.”

God, his name, seemingly so normal, maybe even average, was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. Or maybe it was just hearing his voice that did it for me. He probably could have read me the dictionary and I would have been close to climaxing.

My throat was closed off, and the very notion of speaking right now was most definitely not an option, not unless I wanted to make a fool out of myself.

I exhaled, not sure what to say, but feeling like these emotions, this need, wasn’t normal for me, especially after one night. It scared me.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Tommy.” I whispered it as a for-sure thing instead of a polite goodbye phrase, something people said when they knew they’d never see each other again. Because a part of me hoped to run into him again. A part of me wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.