rubbing my eyes because I have never in my life seen anyone this gorgeous in Waterstones before. I hope it’s a sign that my luck has changed. As I smile at him, I make a mental note to buy a scratch card on the way home.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
He straightens from his leaning position. I let my eyes roll down his body, and it’s well worth a slow pace. His ancient jeans cling to the long lines of his legs and catch on the edges of a pair of battered motorcycle boots. A white T-shirt and a leather motorcycle jacket with stripes down the arms complete the outfit.
“Just listening to your little book club,” he says casually, folding his arms over his chest. “It sounded lively.”
“Oh, really? Did you want to join? I have to tell you that there’s an admission price and you’ll have to learn the password and the group theme song.”
“What’s the theme song?”
“Pink Floyd’s ‘We Don’t Need No Education’,” I say.
He laughs.
“Oh my God,” Tim hisses in my ear. “That’s your sexy, snarky voice, Felix. You’re flirting with someone, you dirty bitch.”
“Bye, Tim,” I say, clicking End on the sound of his laughter.
The man comes towards me and leans against the table of books. I catch the warm scent of sandalwood, and a smile plays over my lips as his dark eyes run all over my body. I let him look, secure in the knowledge that he’ll like what he sees.
I’m not the best-looking of blokes, but I work with what I’ve got, and I’m dressed in skinny jeans, black Converse, a white T-shirt, and blue tweed jacket that I found in a second-hand shop. I’ve wound a big scarf around my neck, and my hair is behaving at the moment.
I fold my arms and cock my hip slightly. “Like what you see?” I say boldly.
He grins wickedly. “I don’t know. It depends if I need a password for you too.”
I bite my lip, and when his eyes fall to my mouth, I deliberately run my tongue over the bite. His eyes glitter, and he leans closer, sending a wave of heat from his body.
I wink. “And what do you think my password will be?” I gesture down at myself. “Got to be something brilliant to unlock all of this magic.”
He raises his hand and trails one long finger down my arm. Even through my jacket, my arm tingles, as though he has magic in his fingers. We stare at each other, locked in a silent bubble in the packed bookshop.
“I think the password is ‘Room sixty-two at the One Aldwych’,” he whispers.
Usually, I’d laugh at the blatant come-on, and his eyes dance as if he’s expecting it, but then his hand strokes down my arm again, and my cock throbs in my tight jeans as if it’s connected to my arm. I breathe in sharply. His own chest rises and falls as his smile falls away. Silence falls for a long few seconds, and then I make myself step back.
Immediately, disappointment crosses his face.
“Well,” I say briskly. “I’m astounded at your ability to crack what is essentially one of the most complicated passwords in the security industry.”
He breathes in and smiles widely. It’s blinding this close up. “Well, I’m obviously a prodigy.”
“Don’t they usually wear spectacles and go to Oxford Uni at the age of five?”
He bites his lip, the smile playing in those dark eyes. “I’m a bit of a late developer.” He straightens and holds out his hand, the palm up and somehow innocent looking. “Ready to go?” he asks.
I stare at him. Am I ready? Am I really doing this—letting a bloke pick me up in a fucking bookshop? I let my gaze play over that stunning face and slide down that fantastic body. He has an air of mischief and mayhem about him. As if at any minute something is going to happen, and it’ll probably be either fun or get me arrested.
I grin. “Course I am.”
My grin stays on my face as I buy the book, but abruptly leaves when he pulls me out of the shop and over to a—
“Oh, no. I’m not getting on that,” I say, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle parked by the kerb.
He grins at me. “It’s a Norton Commando.”
“It could be Daniel Craig’s dick and made of gold. Still doesn’t mean I’m riding it.”
He throws his head back and laughs loudly, attracting the smiles of a few passers-by. His laugh is