Forbidden Romance by Lena Lucas

2

Leo

Inoticed her the moment she stepped through the doors of the cigar bar. She was elegant without being flashy. She seemed shy but had strength. I was instantly transfixed as she made her way with her female companion. If someone had tried to force me to look away from her, I would have sooner died than obey the demand.

Long dark hair partially coiled up, but having strands that curled around her face, accenting her natural beauty. Her dress was dark, simple, and curved around her lithe body to perfection. Her lips were full and red, her makeup menial and didn’t hide how gorgeous she was. The only thing flashy were her earrings, long dangling ones that sparkled under the light. They fit her perfectly and made her even more beautiful. But then again, I imagined she would be stunning without any jewelry, no makeup, and of course completely naked.

I had taken a table in the back of the bar, because although I would have much preferred to stay in, the loneliness had finally gotten to me. So I came here, people-watched, nursed a glass of whiskey, and had plans to leave before the clock struck midnight and everyone celebrated.

God, she was fucking gorgeous, and my eyes were locked on her and her alone as she made her way toward the bar, her blonde friend leading the way. I’d never—and I meant fucking never—seen a woman as captivating as the brunette. My entire focus was solely on her, bordering on instant obsession.

No, not bordering on. Full. On. Obsession.

Everyone else faded away, the sights, sounds, smells all vanishing as I watched her. And when the blonde stopped in front of a male—blond as well—and he extended his hand and took the brunette’s, I felt this tightness fill my body.

Jealousy.

Territorial.

What the fuck was going on with me?

I rubbed a hand over the center of my chest, my body poised as if to attack.

Once the man let go of her hand and the brunette sat back down, I felt myself physically relax. My mind churned and calculated how I was going to approach her, how I was going to interact with her. And that was absolutely going to happen. There was no way I could leave here without speaking to her, learning about her, letting her know how much I desired her.

Okay, the latter might have been overstepping bounds, but I felt so consumed by my desire for her that it was fucking ludicrous, to be honest.

Never in my life had I felt any emotion remotely intense, no emotion that could match this. Not sadness, anger, desire, pleasure… nothing. My need for her went so far I couldn't even comprehend it. And so I knew without a doubt I had to make her mine.

Maybe it would take days, weeks—hell, fucking years. I didn’t care how long it took. I wasn’t going to back down.

And so I sat there and nursed my whiskey, watching her. Only her. And when she got up, a moment of panic filled me that she was leaving, but as she headed toward the back hallway, once again, I relaxed. She kept heading toward the back, presumably to the ladies’ room, and my eyes tracked her. I couldn’t help letting my gaze linger on her body, at how that black sheath dress curved around her form so fucking perfectly. And I sure as hell couldn’t stop my arousal, couldn’t help how my cock kicked into overdrive, lengthening, thickening even further.

I discreetly reached under the table to adjust myself, tucking my erection up so it wouldn’t be noticeable when I had to stand. Because I knew damn well the hard length wasn’t going to go down anytime soon.

And when she moved down the hallway but then stopped, looking over her shoulder and scanning the interior again, I knew she felt me watching her.

Our eyes locked.

My heart hiccupped in my chest.

My cock jerked.

Even from the distance I could see her sharp intake of breath and could practically see the way her pupils dilated.

Oh yes. She was very aware of me, and wasn’t that fucking perfect?