Getting Off. Эбби Грин

Even if he did have cheekbones that would make a woman weep with envy. A wide mouth, firm lips. His jaw was stubbled with a day’s growth.

      But it was his eyes that dominated his face. Daniel Craig blue eyes. Piercing. Mesmeric. And looking right at me.

      He quirked a brow, a small smile playing around that mouth. ‘You’re not from here, are you?’

      I shook my head, still feeling as if someone had just hit me with a bat. How on earth had I not even noticed him? I could see that he was broad and powerful, even though he was sitting down. Faded T-shirt. I wanted to look down but didn’t. I was already imagining soft worn jeans highlighting powerful thigh muscles.

      I found my voice. ‘No. I’m from Ireland. Dublin.’

      ‘I thought I recognized the accent. My family came from Waterford originally.’

      ‘You’re Irish?’ He didn’t look like any Irish guy I’d ever seen in my entire life. Ever. They must have infused the blood along the way, introducing a hefty dose of gorgeous Italian...or maybe Spanish. Maybe he was descended from the Vikings who had pillaged Ireland...I was losing the plot.

      He grimaced. ‘Well. A few generations removed.’

      No shit. More like eons.

      He leaned back slightly, angled his body more toward me and something went properly on fire in my pants when I saw how broad his chest was. I imagined my clitoris vibrating gently in appreciation. His blue gaze dropped and then came back up. My nipples hardened into two stinging points just like that. Jesus wept. I was going to melt all over this stool.

      ‘So...what’s your name?’

      ‘Caitlin.’

      He held out a hand. ‘Liam. Pleased to meet you, Caitlin.’

      His voice saying my name curled right through me. I was almost afraid to touch him, but I put my hand in his and it was dwarfed. A hum of electricity seemed to shoot right to my clitoris, which was definitely vibrating now.

      ‘Nice to meet you, too, Liam.’

      With a ridiculous sense of reluctance I took my hand back.

      His voice seemed to get even deeper. ‘So what are you doing here? Holiday?’

      Looking for you! I almost blurted out, because the realization was shocking and swift. This was my Faceless Dream Lover. In all his hard-packed muscled glory.

      Chapter Two

      As much as Liam wanted the distraction of sexual oblivion, he hadn’t actually come into this bar to pick up the first girl who sat down beside him. But then she’d walked in. Caitlin. Bringing with her an intoxicating scent of roses and musk.

      The minute he’d looked at her, taking in the petite lithe body on the stool beside his, his brains had migrated southward so fast his head had spun.

      Her small pale hands were on her bottle of beer, pulling at the label. He jerked his head toward it and tried to ignore the increasing pressure in his crotch against the unforgiving denim of his jeans. ‘You know they say that’s a sign of sexual frustration?’

      Wide almond-shaped eyes of the deepest velvet brown went to his and she blushed. Blushed! He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had blushed in front of him.

      But she recovered quickly. ‘Yeah, and people who say things like that have one-track minds.’

      Her voice was husky. It had a direct effect on Liam’s body. He could feel the blood pumping to his cock in earnest now, making it harden and swell even more. He had to shift slightly to ease the discomfort, slightly perturbed by the strength of his reaction.

      She pushed back some hair behind her ear, which was small and feminine. Her hair was long, below shoulder length, and wavy. A deep auburn colour. Her skin was creamy, flawless. Her mouth...was soft and full. Very kissable.

      She glanced at him and his dick jerked. Damn.

      ‘I’m here for a while...not sure how long.’

      Liam forced his mind out of his pants with an effort. ‘So you’re just...hanging out?’

      She glanced away again and lifted one slim shoulder, ‘I guess. I’m looking for a job...’

      Liam’s gaze narrowed on her, the sweeping curve of her delicate jaw. He sensed she was holding something back. But what did he care? All he knew was that the prospect of a little flirtation seemed to be exactly the thing to drive away the lingering broodiness that had clung to him since he’d decided to come into the bar.

      ‘Will you excuse me?’

      Liam blinked, feeling slightly disorientated. She was looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes.

      ‘I’m just going to the bathroom.’

      He found his voice. ‘Sure.’

      She swivelled on the stool and jumped off and Liam was shaking his head at her lack of street smarts when she left her bag behind, but then his eyes tracked her as she walked away and his mind went blank.

      He went from sixty to a hundred into a raging erection as he took in a very lush butt and slim legs encased in skinny jeans. She was lithe but deliciously curvy. When she turned to the side to let someone pass, he saw the thrust of small but succulently plump breasts push against her T-shirt. Their hard tips were defined and his mouth watered at the thought of baring her, and sucking one deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. Teasing it with his teeth.

      He turned back to the bar and pulled her bag close where he could keep an eye on it. Sweet Jesus. He was literally throbbing now, his jeans painfully restrictive. He scowled. That girl was trouble with a capital T. It might as well be a neon sign over her head with an arrow pointing downward. And damn it to hell if he didn’t want to take trouble for a ride, given half a chance.

      * * *

      I tried to walk away as elegantly as I could from the sex god at the bar. I hoped I wouldn’t trip and fall flat on my face. My body felt like it was overheating. Between my legs was indecently slick. I could feel it when I moved. When I eventually got to the bathroom I locked myself into a stall and took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. Thankfully, it seemed that with a bit of distance my vibrating clitoris was also calming down.

      Christ on a bike. There was no doubt about it. That man out there was fun, freedom and adventure all wrapped up in the sexiest packaging I’d ever seen in my life. And I’d only been in Manhattan for a week.

      I huffed out a breath. Cool your jets, Caitlin. I was getting overexcited. The guy could be some kind of sexually deviant axe murderer.

      But...a voice wheedled in my head, he was way too gorgeous to be a sexual deviant or a murderer. Actually, the thought of sexual deviance wasn’t so repugnant for a moment. Maybe I needed some kind of perversion to throw me over the elusive orgasmic edge.

      A bit of ass-slapping or bondage? After all, wasn’t that all the rage these days? My bottom seemed to heat up at the very prospect.

      I wondered vaguely how many things I could ask a man like him to try in the space of one night? My heart sped up again—what was I doing? Already having sex with the guy in my head just because we’d exchanged a few sentences and he was more beautiful than any man I’d ever seen? No doubt he was just being polite, humouring the tourist.

      A quick glance in the mirror outside the toilet stall confirmed that I looked faintly manic. Cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. Nipples standing out like beacons saying bite me quick, suck me slowly! Just that thought...of his mouth latched onto one of my sensitized nipples nearly made my legs buckle.

      Two girls came in then, chatting and laughing and I straightened up and walked out. As I approached him again he was turned to the bar, nursing his drink. I saw that he’d pulled my bag closer and had the strap looped around his wrist and