Roman

Three text messages and still no response from Julianna.

I frowned at my silent phone that I was threatening to break by gripping onto it too hard. The connection we had at the graveyard was unmistakable. Sparks, fireworks and all that clichéd bullshit. It had caught me off guard. I hadn't been as smooth as I usually was. I knew she'd felt it too by the way her breath hitched and her nipples hardened through her cotton dress. How could she feel it too and not come to meet me? Didn't she feel this pull?

I fantasized about storming over to her apartment, breaking open her door and carrying her out of there over my damn shoulder. My cock stirred. On second thought, maybe I'd carry her to her bedroom. We were going to end up there anyway. At least that was the plan. I already had her address.

Most people didn't realize that their phones were like GPS trackers. All I needed was her phone number and my connections at the phone company. Sometimes it helped to be a Tyrell.

I was standing with a group of people that I knew from high school in a roped off VIP section of Club Luxe. I haven't seen these guys in almost eight years. I barely noticed them, forcing small talk and fielding uninspired questions about Europe. I was being a rude prick but I couldn't seem to snap myself out of it. Usually, I was so good at this small talk shit.

Ten Twenty-three p.m. and she hadn't fucking shown up.

I had pegged her to show up. On time. Women usually did. So why the fuck hadn't she? Why the hell did I give so much of a shit?

I glared around the club, my eyes seeking her out, scanning each curve and honey shade of long hair for her. There was something about her…

Something…different.

It was like every single cell and fiber of her had been calibrated to strike at every single one of mine, making them all vibrate awake all at once. Fuck, every time I thought about how soft the skin on her neck looked or how silky her hair might feel I got hard.

And she was making me act…different.

I wasn't even interested in the scantily clad girls pawing at my shirt, rubbing their breasts against my arm, tugging at my collar. I swatted them aside like they were flies. They weren't her. I wanted her. I wanted her like I'd never wanted a woman before.

I would have her.

I drank down the rest of my scotch and slammed down my glass onto a side table. I stabbed out another text message to her and hit send.

Me: I'm coming to get you.