La
Cala
N.
Wood
Excerpt:
When I
lifted my gaze to his face, he was watching me with a crooked smile, his grin
mirroring that of a cartoon devil’s. His eyes blazed red as they reflected the lights from
overhead, further adding to the illusion of evilness about him, but despite him
being a person unknown to me, I couldn’t believe for a second that he was a bad
guy—he was just too unbelievably hot!
I
swallowed some more beer, then nestled the glass between my knees, keeping my
hand firmly over the top to prevent my drink from being spiked.
“I’m
really sorry about your drink and your shirt.” It was all I could think of to
say in that moment.
He was
watching me so intently that it was almost uncomfortable, as though trying to
see right into my very soul or my thoughts, or maybe he was mentally undressing
me; not a bad thing in my eyes. If he could see into my thoughts, I
deliberately filled my mind with assurances that it was okay, that he could
undress me for real if he wanted.
As though
he heard, his smile deepened and the dimples returned. “Don’t worry about it.
It’s not as if I’m planning on wearing this to bed anyway, it was just to get
me into this bar tonight.”
He turned
his eyes away to survey the room and I was happy to see that he seemed
disinterested with what it had to offer. I racked my brain to think of
something else to say to him, wanting to hear his Irish accent again, as it
sent a thrilling static straight
to my groin. I received the mental image of him
dressed in nothing but a sparkly green waistcoat, pointed boots and a
leprechaun hat. He would probably hate the stereotype, but the image caused my
cock to twitch.
Down, boy!
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