4. Eli

Four

Eli

The event hall is too fucking perfect. Golden lights, soft music, and a fake-ass buzz of polite conversation that’s supposed to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy inside. Yeah, right. This whole thing reeks like the kind of place where people talk bullshit deals over drink and pretend they give a damn.

I fucking hate it.

I pull at the collar of my suit jacket, nursing a drink I don’t even want. Russo’s voice grates in my ear as he breezes past.

“Loosen up, Jackson. You’re gonna scare off the sponsors,” he says, laughing like I care about the suits in this room. “Maybe one of these fine-ass ladies can put a smile on your ugly mug.”

I grunt, barely acknowledging him. Russo can keep his stupid jokes. I’m here because I have to be. Smile, nod, do the PR rounds—that’s the job tonight. Then I’m done.

Or so I thought.

Until she walked in.

When my eyes land on her, it’s like the air gets punched out of my lungs.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

Full tits and ass that could make a man lose his damn mind, wrapped in a green dress that hugs every inch of her body like it was fucking made for her. Legs long enough to make me want to hook them over my shoulders. And that mouth—full, soft, and glossy, like it’s daring me to kiss her until neither of us can breathe. A mouth I’ve been fantasizing of seeing wrapped around my hard cock since the moment we met. Full lips stretch by my thick girth, my shaft glistening with her spit. Fuck.

She’s got her hair in loose curls, and I can already imagine my fingers tangling in it while I tilt her head back to take her lips. To taste her. To make her mine.

Her eyes are scanning the room like she’s not sure she belongs here. She’s wrong. She fucking belongs everywhere. With me.

My grip tightens around the glass as heat curls low in my gut. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. But my body doesn’t give a damn about logic right now.

“Jackson, you’re staring,” Russo says, smirking as he steps into my line of sight. “She’s not your type.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. He puts up his hands, laughing like the idiot he is.

Eva is busy talking to Emily, who’s pulling her toward Liam. I watch the way her wide hips sway when she moves, and that full, round ass, those juicy tits. Fuck. The way her elegant fingers curl nervously around the strap of her bag. She’s trying to blend in, but she’s impossible to miss.

And then she looks up.

Her gorgeous eyes lock on mine from across the room, and everything else stops. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare at her and wonder how the hell one woman can make me feel like this without even trying.

Her lush lips part slightly, her gaze flickering down my body before snapping back to my face. Good. Let her look. I’m looking too, and I don’t give a damn if she knows it.

She blushes, a faint pink creeping across her cheeks, and I feel my cock twitch. I fucking do that to her. She feels it too—the pull between us, the weight of whatever this is.

My lips hike up into the barest hint of a smile, and I raise my glass to her. Eva blinks, breaking the connection, and turns back to Emily, but I can see the way her chest rises and falls a little faster now.

She fucking knows.