Page 8 of Perfect Satisfaction

Arek reaches over and plays with the ends of my hair that skim my shoulders. He tickles the ends against my pale skin, giving me time to catalog all the attributes that make him so attractive—dark wavy hair. Jade green eyes. Chiseled jaw and full lips that keep tugging up in a smile as he makes goose bumps appear on my skin.

His trails a lock behind my ear before leaning forward to be heard over the music “Let me buy you a drink.”

“No thanks, I’m good with this.” I jiggle the can in my hand.

He leans forward so his breath grazes my ear. Chills race down my spine despite the fact we’re packed in cheek and jowl in the bar. “Why not?”

The disco ball above us turns slowly, casting beams of magic in every direction. But I know nothing is ever as it seems. Brushing my lips against his ear, I shout, “Because who knows if you’ll just up and leave me here by my lonesome.”

His eyes flick over my face before he turns and disappears into the crowd. A deep sigh of regret escapes as I try to let go of the thread of awareness between me and the beautiful man who just left without a backward glance.

The woman I’ve been chatting with until Arek arrived sidles back over. “You should be on fire.”

“What do you mean?”

“I might need a fire hose to cool off from the looks he was giving you.” She jerks her head toward the space where Arek disappeared. “Not to mention the incendiary looks you’ve been receiving from up there.” The blonde, who hid her identity by donning a garish yellow and green John Deer tractor cap, jerks her head up toward the crowd near the stage.

“Yeah. I think he’s gone,” I mourn regretfully

“What makes you think something so ludicrous?” she yells.

“He just...”

She spins me around.

And there he is. Extending a sealed can of Coke to me with a look that says I can have anything I want.

Including him.

“I’ll just go listen to the music while avoiding poisonous darts.” She bounce-skips away, a trademark move should give her identity away to Arek as an entertainment reporter—that is, if he were paying attention. That little move is associated worldwide for one notorious leggy woman when she’s not on the catwalk. I shiver because he’s too focused on me to notice one of the highest paid supermodels in the world snuck into the back entrance of the club to listen to her husband play.

I’ve never had a man stare at me with the kind of hunger and longing on Arek’s face. In an instant, I realize I’d give my last breath to have a man stare at me like this for the rest of my life.

Without opening the drink, I set it aside before pushing my body against his. The second the brush of my breasts touches his rock-hard chest, he tenses.

I rise and cup my hand around his ear. “Do you really want to stay to listen to Brendan play?”

His arm wraps around my waist and cinches me tighter. “Once tonight was more than enough for me. You?”

“I’ve heard him many times before.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Were you?”

He nods. “You’re ready to go?”

I allow my lips to graze his chin as I draw back. Then I hold his eyes before I mouth, “Yes.”

He doesn’t waste another second before clasping my hand and dragging me through the throng of fans, trying to press closer to the stage.

My need for more with this man just went stratospheric even as Brendan Blake starts covering “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” to his screaming fans.

The glitter in his eyes intensifies as the elevator swiftly ascends toward his floor.

My arousal level hits something I’ve never experienced as I face him in the empty mirrored box. I step toward him and he shakes his head. “Keep to your side.”

“Touching you becomes infinitely harder that way,” I taunt.