But then a surge of defiance shot through her. He didn't had to see this man again.
know anything about her. And he didn't have to. She never Apparently, you found him in this bar. And she didn't need to go to it. Ever again.
She was here to start fresh. He didn't know about her experience or her lack of it. Didn't know that she wasn't actually a sex goddess.
For whatever reason, he felt this. The chemistry. This pull between them. Because she knew it wasn't about her being...
The most beautiful woman in the room.
Not by half.
There were women in here that looked like they belonged between the pages of men's magazines, and they hadn't put on summer dresses to come out and have a drink. They were in painted-on jeans and skintight red dresses. Not flowing, sweet yellow frocks that fell down to their knees.
Some of them had big hair, but it was intentional. Not expanded from humidity and a general lack of knowledge on what to do with it, in spite of it having been on her head for the last thirty years. Their makeup was applied expertly, and not in the sparing manner that she'd used. Some sheer lip gloss, and a little bit of shiny stuff on her eyelids, because she just didn't really know how to handle makeup, and it always made her feel like an imposter. And the one time she tried really hard to follow some kind of a tutorial, Jared had asked her what had happened to her face.
This man didn't know any of that. And for whatever rea-son, he didn't seem to see it. With Jared she'd always felt un-certain. Never sure if she felt more than he did. If she cared more. If the excitement that she felt when they'd kiss had been mostly weighted toward her. If the strongest feelings that existed were on her end. She was confident that he was feeling the same thing, this stranger. And she had never felt that kind of connection with another human being before.
That kind of certainty.
The fire was in his belly too.
It was reflected there in those blue eyes.
And she knew.
"I just...I just ordered a drink," she said. "You want a drink?"
His lips tipped upward. "I don't need one."
She shifted. Excitement blooming between her legs.
"Right. Right." And she realized that she was just standing there repeating herself, and felt vaguely idiotic.
His lips curved into a smile. It echoed inside her. "If you want to have a drink, that's fine by me. We can stand here and exchange pleasantries for as long as you need to, but I feel like I need to make one thing perfectly clear—I aim to get you into bed tonight."
Her knees nearly buckled. And somehow, she managed to remain standing.
"We don't even know each other," she said.
"We've known each other for six months."
The truth of that burst in her chest. She had known him for six months. She might've seen him once, but she'd thought of him every night since.
And he felt confident enough in that to just say it. His confidence was intoxicating. An aphrodisiac and an inspi-ration. So she took a breath, and she decided she was going to practice that same amount of confidence. Because she wasn't Mallory Chance tonight. She was a mystery woman with the mystery man. And there would be no consequences, no nothing from this.
This wasn't anything.
And she... Didn't even know what that was like.