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Not that I was under Bear’s spell, but I sure as shit hadn’t been expecting to see him tonight, period, let alone looking like a fucking GQ centerfold.
The man was brutally attractive, and besides being unaware he was attending the event, nothing could have prepared me for the way he looked in his all-black tuxedo, shirt and tie. Nothing. At. All. I should have been warned both that he was going to be there, and that he was going to turn up looking like Michael B. Jordan’s taller, slicker, hotter, badass kid brother.
As it was, I had been thrown in at the deep end and was floundering in a pool of desire for him. I had no armbands, no life raft, and no clue how to swim to the edge and save myself. I was sinking like a stone, and fast.
The twist of eschewing a traditional white shirt in favor of black added an extra layer of sexiness, and made him stand out from the crowd. Who was I kidding? Everything about him made him stand out. He was taller, more built, and better looking than pretty much every guy there. Not to mention the fact that he was the only black man in the room. Heads were turning not-very-subtly, and for some unknown reason, I didn’t like it, though I dared not analyze the reasons why.
I myself wanted to look away, for my own good, but my need for self-preservation was far outweighed by my stubborn desire not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me. That he got to me in every way possible. That he was under my skin. Today, even the smell of him—the heady masculine notes of his expensive cologne—was driving me crazy.
“I’m not dead or blind. I can appreciate aesthetics, even if I know that there’s nothing behind them, and when you scratch the surface, all that’s there is hollow emptiness.” Despite the flush I could feel creeping up my cheeks, I returned his razor-sharp stare.
“Watch what you say, Honey Bee.”
“Or what?” I shifted my gaze, doing a subtle sweep of the room, quickly seeing what I thought I would. He wasn’t alone. Not even close. “You’ll set your cronies on me? Or steal my work? Oh wait, you did that already.”
“Keep your goddamned voice down!”
“Why? You were the one all over me in a PDA just now, why suddenly so shy?” I met his gaze again, and was slightly taken back by the rage in his inky dark eyes.
“I’m warning you, Honey Bee, you’re playing with fire.” His voice was low again,
“Too bad I’m totally prepared to get burned. The fact is, I already have been, so whatever it is you’re now threatening, bring it on. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Jesus, woman. Why do you have to be so hard-headed? And why does your ridiculous stubbornness turn me on like nothing else?” The anger in his eyes melted away to be replaced by pure naked desire. “I’m about to burst through my zipper over here.”
I closed my eyes to avoid his, and the damage his stare was doing to my libido, only for the look in his eyes to be replaced in my mind by a vivid image of his dick straining inside his pants. Damn him. Or myself. I wasn’t sure which one of us I was most pissed off with. It was a dead heat at that point in time, but ultimately, deep down, I knew that I had to accept responsibility for my own part in the shit show that was unfolding between us.
The whole Cygnus Dei issue was one thing, and I would go to my grave defending my unshakeable resolve to pursue a story that was very much in the public interest. However, the complication with Bear wasn’t even close to being something I could defend or even explain. It was the first time in my life that I could recall knowingly making decisions I knew were a mistakes.
“Penny for them.”
“Hmmm...?”
Bear’s rich, velvety voice surprised me out of my reverie.
“You’ve gone quiet and pensive. I’ll give you a penny for those heavy thoughts spinning around your mind. Let them out and lighten your load.” As he spoke, he reached out and, oh so gently, oh so slowly, using his pinky he brushed a few stray tendrils of hair from my forehead that had escaped from my updo, then smoothed out the creases on my brow with his thumb.
It was such a tender and intimate action that, although I wanted to, I couldn’t muster the energy to swat his hand away or move out of his reach. Instead, I closed my eyes again, and let the intense feelings flooding my body wash over me. I hated to play out the cliché, but I’d sucked my bottom lip between my teeth before I could stop myself. Kill. Me. Now.
“They’re not even worth that much, I’m afraid.” I kept my eyes closed and stood rooted to the spot, half waiting for Bear to make his next move, half hoping he was a figment of my imagination, and that when I opened my eyes, he’d be gone.
He wasn’t, of course, and I didn’t have long to wait for his next move. He slipped his hand down to my neck and drew me closer to him, closing the slim gap between us I’d created earlier. He lowered his lips to my ear again. So much for maintaining a semblance of professional decorum.
“First floor. Second door on the left. Five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.” With those words, he released my neck and withdrew his body from mine. I opened my eyes and blinked myopically, watching him as he crossed the room in large, confident strides, and slipped out of the double-height oak-paneled door.
For some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling I needed some Dutch courage for whatever we were about to do together. I stopped a passing waiter and grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in three gulps, raising my hand to ensure he stayed put so that I could grab another glass and repeat the process. I was so screwed with this man. In more ways than one.
Chapter 24
Bear
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’d been prepared to see Honey tonight. I’d known she was going to be there. I also knew it was a black-tie event, so it was obvious that she would be dressed up. But nothing, and I meant nothing, could have prepared me for the way she looked in her figure-hugging floor-skimming evening gown. It fit her like it was made especially for her, and maybe it had been—it seemed to be specifically designed to highlight and accent each line and curve of her body to absolute perfection.
I didn’t have enough superlatives at my disposal to adequately describe what a vision she was, but for sure she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Before even approaching her, I’d watched her for some time while she was unaware of my presence. I chalked it up as doing due diligence—staking out my target, getting the upper hand, etcetera. Others might call it spying or stalking.
