Somebody to Love (Tyler Jamison #1) - April Wilson Page 0,1

than me, about my height, six-foot. His brown hair is cut close on the sides and back, longer and wavy on the top. His jaw is covered by a trim beard.

I notice a flash of interest in his green eyes. When he nods at me, heat blooms in my chest, unbidden and unwelcome, and my belly tightens.

I’m stunned by my physical reaction.

Oh, hell no!

I break eye contact and continue into the men’s room. Fortunately, I’m the only one in here. I quickly empty my bladder, trying to ignore what just happened, and wash up, my motions quick and efficient. I’m careful not to look at my own reflection in the mirror, afraid of what I’ll see. My face still burns from that brief encounter in the hall.

When I exit the bathroom, he’s there, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. I finally notice what he’s wearing—ripped jeans, a tight-fitting gray t-shirt with faded text on it. That t-shirt hugs his lean torso and biceps. He’s clearly no stranger to physical activity.

For a moment, I stare, unable to look away as my heart starts pounding.

His gaze sweeps me from head to toe. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and my thoughts race as I try to keep up. “Excuse me?”

He pushes away from the wall and steps in front of me, meeting me eye-to-eye, a cocky grin on his face.

His gaze searches mine, as if he’s looking for answers. “I watched three hot-as-hell women hit on you tonight, and you brushed every single one of them off. My friends say you turn down offers from women and men.” He looks at my hands. “I don’t see a ring. Is there someone special?”

This close, I can see flecks of gold in his eyes. His lashes are long, the color of fine chocolate. My ears start ringing and my chest tightens as it heats up. He’s so…brazen. I don’t know how to respond.

When I stand there like a tongue-tied idiot, he shakes his head and chuckles. And then he walks away, leaving me dumbfounded.

My God, he’s… I don’t even know how to describe him. He’s so… fearless.

I head for the exit, skirting tables filled with loud, half-drunken people and a crowded dance floor. I just want to get out of here. As I step out onto Superior Avenue, on a crisp, cool June night, I dodge the steady stream of pedestrian traffic. It’s only ten p.m., and there are plenty of people still out, many of them tourists.

I have no trouble flagging a ride from the line of cabs idling out front. Since I knew I’d be drinking tonight, I didn’t bother driving. I give my driver the address to my condo in Lincoln Park, and a moment later he darts into traffic, heading north. As I settle into my seat, I’m painfully aware that my heart is pounding, and I’m breathing like I just jogged up two flights of stairs.

Closing my eyes, I try to force the picture of that guy out of my head. I force myself to think about other things… anything. About the cases I’m working on, about my sister who’s pregnant with her second child, about her son, my nephew, who’s just about to turn one. I think about anything other than a pair of green eyes and the way his chest and arms filled out that damn t-shirt.

Shit. I should have taken the woman up on her offer. At least she would have given me something else to think about tonight. Something else to focus on.

As soon as I get home, I strip off my suit and tie and hit the shower. My body is a live wire, charged, crackling with electricity. I need a release. I need something, anything to redirect my thoughts.

I lean into the cold tile wall and attempt to shut off my brain as I jerk myself off. My fist is relentless, as brutal as it is unforgiving. Punishing.

I stroke myself roughly, my grip firm, and try desperately to empty my mind. Before long, my balls draw up tight, and I feel the fire of an impending climax searing my spine. My mouth falls open as air billows in and out of my lungs.

Just as I’m about to come, I picture a stranger with green eyes and a lean, muscular body. Fuck! With a hoarse cry, I shoot my load into the spray of water, gritting my teeth