Landon's POV

I'm staring.

I don't seem to be able to help it. I just can't keep my eyes off her. I shouldn't be staring. It's not a good idea. It'll probably give her the wrong idea.

I've never seen anyone quite like her though.

She's captivating.

Hypnotic even.

She's wearing a pair of skinny black jeans – designer, I can tell by the fit. If I had to guess, I'd say, Ralph Lauren – with a cobalt blue silk top that flows over her skin. It's cut in a low v with spaghetti straps that cross over her back.

I can imagine that top and those jeans on my bedroom floor.

One glance down to her feet tell me that her stiletto shoes match her top. They'd stay on...

She's smiling at her friend and I can't imagine her any other way. She's perfect.

I wonder if she even knows how to frown or look sad. I can't imagine it. Her hair is like chocolate rolling in curls down her back.

From this distance, I can't tell the colour of her eyes, but I know they will be impressive.

I feel drawn towards her. And yes, I realise I sound like a complete sap.

Just as I'm about to get up and make my way over to introduce myself, she looks down at her empty drink before looking straight at me.

I don't look away.

I can't. She's caught me staring but I don't care. I just need a second to come up with a plan, a way to get to know her... an excuse.

She looks back to her friend for a moment and I'm afraid that I've missed my moment. Then she looks back, just a shy glance but it's enough to tell me she's interested.

I have no control over the wide grin that covers my face.

I steal back control of my facial muscles; poker face back in place I'm focused solely on her. There's nothing else in the room but her. Then she's saying something to her friend and getting to her feet. I'm worried she's leaving.

Maybe I really did miss my chance.

Fuck!

I don't have time to wonder at the way I care that I might have missed out on her. There are hundreds of girls here tonight and any of them would technically do but I want her.

But she isn't turning towards the door and her friend isn't following her and hope settles in my stomach. Maybe I haven't missed my chance, after all.

Considering how much she's had to drink, she's very steady in those heels; those heels that accentuate her legs and the curve of her hips in the most intoxicating way.

I wait for her to say something when she reaches the bar but she doesn't. She doesn't even look at me and I'm disappointed. Perhaps I read her wrong... Maybe she wasn't interested after all.

That doesn't seem likely.

There's a reason why I'm so successful at what I do; I'm bloody brilliant at reading people. I know when I've won them over. I know when they are a lost cause. I know when they are interested and I know when they want to fuck me.

She's making me doubt myself and I never doubt myself.

What the fuck is she doing to me? I've not even spoken to her yet and she's making me ask questions I just don't ask. I don't doubt myself!

I give myself a shake; sort yourself out, Peters!

She's close enough that I can smell her. She smells incredible, like some sinfully exotic fruit that is ripe for the picking. She's touching me too. Barely... But it's enough to send fire through my veins straight to my cock. Her shoulder is gently rubbing against mine.

I have to stop myself from leaning into the sensation.

She's not even looking at me but I wonder if she's as affected by me as I am by her.

Biting her lip, she waits for the barman. She looks as if she's scarcely breathing. She turns her head slightly towards me, just a fraction, and opens her mouth as if she's about to finally say something when the damn barman interrupts her.

I mentally curse him out as she politely orders her drinks; I'm not accustomed to people getting between me and what I want.

She's ordering more tequila.

Hasn't she had enough? I've been counting how many shots she's done. She shouldn't have anymore.

I can't stop myself laughing though.

"You sure like your tequila!"

She looks completely confused by my outburst and I think it might be the cutest thing I've ever seen. It's interesting because I've never really gone for cute before.

Usually the women I hook up with are hot, sexy but never cute.

I mean, the woman is clearly beautiful but it's a sweeter beauty than I'm used to. She's young and happy; undamaged. I like that.

She looks like she's struggling to find a reply but I'm not left waiting long.

"It's a new preference."

"I see." I lick my lips as I take in every detail of her face. "So, before you turned to tequila, what were you?"

"Pardon?" I've confused her again. For some reason, I take pleasure in it.

"A gin girl? A vodka girl?"

"Neither; I've never been much of a drinker."

I've made her blush.

God! That's hot.

Even as I take in her blush, I carry on the conversation. She tells me that she's never been drunk before tonight and I raise my eyebrow disbelievingly.

I know I look surprised.

I usually try to control my facial expressions but with her it feels harder. It's probably because she keeps confounding me.

I'm giving more of myself away than ever before and I'm not sure I like it. I prefer to be the one in control of the situation.

Licking my lips, I take her in. She's an enigma.

Earlier, as I had watched her I had been sure I had her pegged; pretty, rich, party girl, slightly shy but up for some fun. With my profile of her character in mind, I had felt in control.

Now that she's surprised me, my grasp on that control feels looser. I don't know what to expect from her and it leaves me feeling off kilter.

The barman is back and I tell him to put her drinks on my tab without taking my eyes off her as she looks through her bag for her purse.

I have a permanent tab in this particular bar. It's a new addition to a couple of my old university friends' chain of restaurants and clubs.

I'm barely blinking. I know I must look severe but I feel like I have to take in every detail of her so that I might understand her.

People often say that when I'm thinking, I look closed off as if I'm immune to emotion. I'm not. I just try not to let other people see it. In business, I don't want to give anyone the upper hand and in dating... well, let's say, I prefer it when my dates don't get close.

That's why I have rules. There are just some things that should be kept private; in fact, most things should be kept private. That's the way I like my life; private and controlled.

She turns back to me.

"You don't have to do that."

I smirk. I'm fully aware of the fact.

"I don't have to do anything." I don't remember the last time I felt obliged to do anything. I only ever do what I want.

I tell her to enjoy her drinks because I don't know what else I can say to her. I'm not used to feeling like this; like I don't know what to do. I'm always confident. I always know what to do.

It might sound arrogant, but I'm just self-confident.

Usually, this is easy for me. Normally I'd have already asked her back to my place, and we'd be in my car barely talking as we drove back to mine. She'd be commenting on the interiors of my Lexus as my hand rested on her thigh.

But instead she's thanking me for her drinks, and a part of me is scared that she's about to walk away.

The other part of me thinks that might not be a bad idea; she's not the sort of girl I usually take home. Taking her home would probably break a rule; I'm just not sure which one.

That's not completely accurate; it's more like how many rules would it break.

Almost all of them?

I don't break the rules. I've never wanted to even.

I'm watching her, still trying to get a grasp of who she is when her friend comes up behind her and makes her jump. I really don't want her to go with her friend, and so I'm delighted when she tells her friend to go and have fun with the blonde guy she's met. Her friend glances at me with interest, but I don't even look at her, my focus is completely on the girl in front of me.

"Your friend is certainly excitable," I say as she watches her friend leave with an affectionate look on her face.

My words get her eyes back on me, and I'm grateful.

"She's..." She takes her time trying to describe her friend but in the end settles for. "She's Tallulah."

The love in her voice is clear. They're good friends.

"And who are you?" I ask the question that's on the tip of my tongue. I want to know her.

"I'm Aurora. Rory."

She's shy again. Nervous. As if she's not accustomed to introducing herself. That surprises me. Everything I've seen tonight; everything I know about her suggests that she should be incredibly confident. This should be easy for her, but then again it should be easy for me too. And it's not. It's nowhere near easy, so I can't blame her for feeling shy.

She rubs her neck, and I can't help but glance down. Is she trying to be seductive?

I get the impression she has no idea what she is doing to me. She's smiling at me again, and I instinctively grin back.

"I'm Landon. Are you going to do those shots?" I challenge her.

I shouldn't encourage her to drink anymore; she's had enough, more than enough but I want to distract her so I can think up a plan to get her into my bed and the drinks on the bar are the only thing that comes to my mind, so I go with it.

"Well I did get one for Lou, but it doesn't look like she wants it."

She looks towards the dance floor, but I don't follow her gaze, choosing to watch her instead. She's everything she promised to be from across the bar. I knew she'd be beautiful. Her eyes are a blue, calm ocean that is threatening to pull me under and consume me.

"Would you like one?" she asks me.

I laugh because I haven't done shots in years.

"Alright."

I try to recall the last time I did shots and I'm pretty sure it was at university with Jarrod and Jack; back when we were all living off our parents' money; completely irresponsible and unbelievably reckless.

She passes me one of the shot glasses and a slice of lemon. We both try to pick up the salt at the same time, and the fire that I felt earlier is back again.

She must feel it too. I catch my breath. She's blushing again. I like that blush.

The women I usually sleep with, hardly ever blush. I didn't realise I was missing anything until I met her though.

I down my tequila and scrunch up my face as I suck on the lemon, but I never take my eyes off her. I want to take her home, but I'm not sure I can just take her the way I normally would. She's different from the others, and I'm completely out of my element. I'm going to have to choose a different approach.

"Do you want to dance?" I ask her because right now I really just want to touch her.

Every part of me is focussed on her. She's like the fucking sun, and the fiery current that's coming off her in waves is burning me to the bloody core.

"Okay."

She bites her lip again as she gets down from her stool. I grab her hand and lead her through the crowd. The feel of her hand in mine is overwhelming. If it feels this good to hold her hand, how much better will it feel to kiss her?

To touch her?

To slide into her?

I'm tempted to take her to a quiet corner where I can misbehave, but I know she'll be more comfortable near her friend, so I quickly scan the crowd for the blonde girl from earlier. When we reach her, I pull Aurora into my arms until I can feel her against my chest. Her friend has lost the boy now and is dancing with a darker haired guy and another blonde-haired girl.

I recognise the guy.

He'd been sat with Aurora when I first saw her. He must be her friend too. He keeps looking over at us; he's watching us with a protective glint in his eyes. He cares about her.

I'm jealous, I think. I think that's what it is; jealousy.

He knows her. I arrogantly remind myself that I'm the one she's dancing with. I'm the one holding her in my arms.

Why the hell would I be jealous of him? I'll fuck her tonight, something he's probably never done.

The idea of him fucking her makes me feel sick. The truth though is that he gets to live in her life. He knows her in a way I never will because I'll fuck her and leave her like I always do.

Having her this close is intoxicating. I lean down and breathe in, taking in her scent.

I gently kiss her neck before saying, "you smell amazing."

I can't see her face but I know she's blushing and it turns me on. She catches me off guard when she leans up and kisses me gently on the lips. I think this girl might make a habit of surprising me.

Kissing her back, I almost immediately deepening the kiss with a swipe of my tongue across her lips. The kiss is intense. It's deep, and when she pulls away to breathe, I'm left bereft.

I pull her closer as if to lessen my loss. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want her in this moment. I kiss along her collarbone until she pulls me back up by my hair so that she can kiss me again.

We are still moving to the music, but I'm not sure I'd call it dancing. It's more primitive. Raw. Needy. One of my hands is on her arse, and the other is under her top, caressing her over her bra.

It's a good job the dark-haired guy is distracted. He's kissing a blonde girl and not paying us any attention at all.

I pull away because I have to. If I don't, we'll be having sex on the dance floor in front of her friends and half the city because I know that with her, I could easily lose control. I think I want to.

We look at each other, and I decide I have to do something. I have to choose; either slow this down or go with it. I'm about to ask her to come home with me when she asks me if I want another drink.

I don't. I want her. Now. But I decide to do what she wants.

Slow it down it is. I nod towards the bar.

Do you think Aurora will go through with it and actually go home with Landon?