a pair of jeans or a t-shirt — I always went to Gemma when I needed to borrow that style.
Tonight, I’d landed on a soft, baby blue romper with a deep V cut. It was loose and flowy, which was casual to me, and paired with my favorite wedges, the outfit accented my long legs and narrow waist. I’d just dyed my hair an even darker red over the weekend, landing me in the auburn family, and I wore it in large barrel waves that spiraled over my shoulders. It was so big and teased that it was practically begging to have a hand tangled in it.
I hoped by the end of the night, it would.
Ever since I left his place Friday night, I’d been thinking about Makoa. Sure, I’d worked, and worked out, and hung out with Gemma, and gone out with the girls for happy hour. And sure, he’d stopped by the office Monday long enough to hear my initial plans for his condo and get my address. But that interaction had been short and professional, and if anything, it’d only left me wanting more.
The majority of my thoughts since then had centered around the way it felt when Makoa almost kissed me, and the way his smile made my stomach dip, and the way I couldn’t wait to have his condo furnished and decorated so I could fuck him in every corner of it.
Another knock came, and I scurried over to the door, putting my confident smile in place before I swung it open.
And there he was, the Polynesian dream boat.
It was a Herculean feat to keep my tongue in my mouth as I took in every inch of him. Makoa wore a cream linen shirt that cut off just under his elbow and had an open neckline — just enough for me to see a little more of those tattoos he loved hiding so much. His tan skin was ablaze against the linen, and the dark distressed jeans he wore hugged him in all the best ways. He had a gold chain around his neck, one that gave off major power vibes, and just with one inhale I knew I’d never forget that man’s scent.
Earthy and warm, with a little spice and a whole lot of sex appeal.
His eyes hungrily devoured me in measure, and he let out a slow whistle when our gaze finally met. “I’m going to have to fight off every man in Chicago tonight.”
I flushed, more out of practice than actual embarrassment. “Let me grab my purse.”
I locked up behind us, and as soon as I was in the hallway with him, Makoa slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me into him from the side. His hand was the size of my ribcage, and when he tucked me into him like that, I felt like a baby kitten.
Maybe that’s why I practically purred when he pulled me in even closer, pressing his warm lips to my cheek.
How I wished for those lips to be everywhere else…
He released his grip after the kiss, much to my despair, and we made our way to the elevator. Once we were downstairs, I followed his lead, holding my purse and wondering why the teenage love-sick puppy dog thought of wanting him to hold my hand had crossed my mind.
“So, where are we going?” I asked. We walked past a trio of women who practically slobbered on themselves as Makoa walked by, and I chuckled thinking about his comment before we left my place.
Maybe it would be me having to fight someone off tonight.
“Well, you see, I’m in a bit of a predicament. And I need your help.”
“Do tell.”
“Obviously, I’m new to town.”
“Clearly.”
“And, in San Francisco, well… I had a bit of a reputation.”
I cocked a brow. “Did you now?”
Makoa nodded, completely oblivious to another group that ogled him as we passed. This one had a few dudes, too, and they seemed just as enamored with him.
Maybe Makoa Kumaka was the kind of handsome that could make even the straightest man stare.
“I was trivia champion at the local dive bar. And now that I’m in Chicago, I need to defend my title.”
I laughed. “And what if someone else has that title?”
“I’m sure they do. That’s why I asked if you were competitive.”
“So, we’re about to make some nerds cry when we kick their asses in trivia?”
“Precisely.”
I grinned. “Did you have a place in mind?”
“I Googled trivia nights in Chicago. Looks like The Oaf Bar is