Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,78
another night works better? I’m free tomorrow.”
She’s making this harder than it needs to be, and I’m not talking about my dick. It’s still taking it easy. Nothing about her is getting a rise out of me.
“I’ll never be interested.”
Her blue eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”
I imagine if she’d snap her fingers many men would come running, but I’m not one of them. “I know what I’m looking for, and you’re not it.”
“I could be it,” she says hopefully. “I’m not interested in more than one night.”
In my experience, if a woman tells you that, she’s lying. The tan line on her ring finger suggests she was interested in more than a one-night stand at some point in her life; some recent point in her life.
If I take her to bed, she’ll want more.
Again, my ego is not driving this train, but women love good sex. They dream about great sex, and when they get phenomenal sex, they latch on.
I’m a notch above phenomenal.
I pick and choose the women I sleep with very carefully. I vet them if you will, so when we part after we’ve both had our fun, they aren’t going to chase me down looking for more.
My work keeps me too busy for a social life, and my commitment choices keep a lasso wrapped around my heart.
I’m self-aware. I’m not flailing through life avoiding a relationship because I have issues that reach back to my childhood.
To put it simply, I’m happy living alone. I’m happier when I’m fucking different women.
There’s no need to delve deeper than that.
“When was your divorce finalized?” I question.
Her gaze drops to her hand. “What?”
“Your marriage ended when?”
“It’s not officially over.” She rolls her eyes. “We separated last week.”
Nodding, I scan the room. “Is this your first time out since you two called it quits?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “Yes, and it’s hard.”
“What’s your name?” I ask not because I want to know this woman, but because she needs to feel something from me. Outright rejection will put her on a path of destruction.
“Holly.” Her smile brightens. “What’s your name?”
“William.”
“I like that.” She flutters her extra-long eyelashes. “What are you looking for, Will?”
For starters, I’m looking to be called William, not Will .
I let it slide because Holly and I are about to part ways after I give her some sage advice. “Take some time to figure out what you want, Holly. Don’t jump into bed with a random because you’re trying to prove that you’re still able to turn heads. You’re beautiful. You’re also vulnerable right now, so give it a minute to sink in that you’re single.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “My ex told me I’d never find another man.”
“He’s a lying bastard,” I retort. “You’re going to have them lining up to take you out.”
Her brows perk. “You think?”
“I know.” I push away from the bar. “Give it some time and take care of yourself.”
Her eyes scan my face. “I would have slept with you.”
I know.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” I button my tuxedo jacket. “If you excuse me, there’s someone I need to speak with.”
With one last glance over my six-foot frame, Holly sighs. “She’s one lucky lady.”
I can’t agree with that, but that’s not for me to judge. I’m here to do a job, and it’s time I got to work.
Coming soon!
Preview of Plucked
Sneak Preview of PLUCKED, a sexy new standalone romance!
Roman Hawthorne is tall, devastatingly handsome, and has a jawline that is so sharp that it cut could glass. He’s my dream guy on paper but let’s just say, Roman is arrogant with a capital A.
When I meet him in a bar on a random Tuesday, I think I’ll never see him again.
But I do.
Every time I show up at that bar, Roman is there with his perfectly styled hair, his dark brown eyes, and his smile that could charm any woman.
What starts as a flirtation turns into more.
Roman is exactly what I need.
He brings me daisies.
He gifts me with kisses.
And, we do things in my bedroom that make even me blush.
I feel like I’m living a real-life fairytale until I catch Roman in another bar on a Wednesday doing something I never thought he would.
Chapter 1
Bianca
“The world could do with fewer men.” I shove my hand into a plastic bowl filled with peanuts only for it to topple over. “Screw you.”
“Screw me?” A man’s voice growls next to me.
It growls. The type of deep and raw sound that enters your ear, but then it crawls down your