Honestly, I’m pretty nervous as well, but I'm hoping to hide it from her. The knots in my stomach and the pounding in my chest is something I've never felt before, and I'm sure as hell not going to let this feeling slip away. I know some people say knots are a bad thing, but considering my dick could hammer nails right now, I'd say they are a very good thing for me.
Every part of me is on edge. I'm trying not to crush the beer in my hands or speed up too fast to her. She crosses one arm around her stomach while the other is tugging on her earlobe. Good god, I would love to bite that earlobe. She seems to be a losing a battle as she watches me walk up. Her eyes stare into mine, and I already have a feeling in my gut that I'm a goner.
I'm swallowing my tongue from trying not to attack the shit out of her lips with mine, but hot damn, she looks as good up close as she did from far away. I want to pick her up and hide us from the world until I know everything about her, both in mind and body.
I feel like I have a mouthful of peanut butter trying to speak, but I at least manage to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Matt.”
She gives me a small, timid, smile, her green apple eyes looking right into my soul, making the pounding in my chest take over any rational thinking I might have had. Her heart-shaped face holds a few freckles on her cheeks and tiny straight nose enhancing the features that surround her. She is framed by that gorgeous halo of curly dark walnut hair that I really want to fucking run my hands through. She's about half a foot shorter than me with an athletically accentuated body that is not helping the strain in my jeans.
My god, that body is making me hungry and not for food.
She still hasn’t replied so I clear my throat before repeating, “Hi, I’m Matt Reynolds”.
Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you?
Not the creepy 'evil clowns in the woods' kind, more like the 'oh my gosh a hot guy is staring at you' feeling? Well right now, my radar is blasting through the trees, sending signals across the entire eastern seaboard.
Normally, super large crowds freak me out because of the crazy drunks and rude people. Getting shoved around and squished between smelly folks is not my idea of a good time. These concerts are never packed to maximum capacity, but the crowd does seem larger than average this semester. There are more kids running around than normal. Maybe, it's because the weather held out nicely for a change.
Seriously, though, in my defense, I didn't think a night out at the traditional beginning of semester concert would result in a staring contest with hands down, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
For the record, I'm totally losing the contest.
I knew of him but didn't know his name or anything else other than that he was in my fall Business Ethics class and never noticed me. I frequently caught myself staring at him when he would pass by, but was way too chicken to attempt talking to him. Luckily, the class had roughly 100 people in it from every graduate program at Broxton, and I stayed invisible from most of the class. When I saw him talking to other girls, my face turned red with disappointment and a little jealous pang filled my stomach. I had a crush on him without even knowing him. I kept daydreaming he would find me in the crowd of class and pick me. It was just a pipe dream, though. An intense one, but a nonexistent one.
Help me out here. How do you get over a crush? Or do you ever really get over one?
This is the first time I've ever gotten a good solid view of him. He's slightly over six feet with a medium, solid build from possibly working out rigorously, and has tanned skin draped across his drop dead handsome face. He has short light brown messy hair that I just want to run my hands through. It always looked soft and enticing when I would sneak a peak in class even when he styled it all neatly and spiky. A strong chest is definitely visible under his long-sleeved heather gray shirt, no fat to be seen whatsoever through the offending shirt on a set of gorgeous arms, one of which is holding up a cup of beer by a big hand. I can't see his eyes because he's too far away, but I can see the sharp lines on his jaw and chin.
Jeez, everything about him is lined perfectly.
Guys like him are completely out of my league. I've seen and dealt with enough guys who knew they were attractive. Always cocky, loud-mouthed jerks who use their looks and calculated charm as an advantage with women. They treat the once in a lifetime girls’ like dirt until they become the crazy ones or make them hesitant to put themselves out there again. I fall into the latter category.
Although, if I'm not mistaken, he won't stop staring. I'm not conceited. Far from it and I'm nervously freaking out right now, almost hyperventilating. My toes feel numb, and my face feels like pudding. On a scale of one to ten, my self-esteem is probably at a five and a half, so I have almost no hopes that he's heading right for me. I bet he's probably going to walk right past me to someone on the other side of the dance floor. He is what my friends would call "man pretty" because he is freakin' too dang good-looking. I saw him hanging out with two extremely hot guys earlier. Honestly, they still aren’t as hot as him. One of them looks to be almost a good foot taller than my five-feet-six with messy blond hair and a booming laugh while the other has muscles on top of muscles to his mocha-rich skin. It's a hot guy convention over there. I guarantee none of them have ever taken a bad picture in their lives.
Oooohh boy! He's actually coming right over here, and I'm alone!
My older brother, Aaron, is at the front of the stage looking around, his strong arms crossed all scary, and keeping an eye on everything. My signaling to him isn't working. I probably look like I'm having a small seizure to everyone else around me. Why can't his brother-cop-former military senses kick in when I need them? I mean, come on! He lives for this protector stuff.
What do I do? Turn back to the stage or watch him walk up?
He's getting closer, and I can't stop staring! I catch myself tugging on my earlobe and my hand trying to calm the action in my stomach. Is there a bell ringing?
His long legs are covered in a nice pair of dark jeans, and he’s taking big steps in his sneakers, even though he looks to be walking slowly on purpose, maneuvering around all the of people. My body is getting goose bumps as he gets closer. I see his full lips pull up into a wide smile, and his eyes focus on me. Red alert, there are dimples on display.
Finally, I can see his eyes. Wow, they are a warm espresso. No, wait, brownies fresh from the oven!
Crap on a cracker, I would kill for his long, dark lashes. His nose is a little crooked like it's been broken once or twice, and he has a scar on his chin, giving it a square look. He has an amazing scruff that I'm trying to imagine if it would be rough or soft on my skin. Would it tickle in the palm of my hand or scratch across my cheek?
Have I mentioned those lips? Dark pink and full, pulling me in like a moth to a flame—
Whoa. Rewind!
The lips are moving. I start tugging on my earlobe again in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I completely missed what you just said."
He laughs. "It's no problem. I said my name's Matt Reynolds."
Even his deep laugh and his name are hot. It's so direct and commanding like it should have a title in front of it. Officer Matt Reynolds. Lord Matt Reynolds. The list goes on. My heart is knocking around inside of my chest. I can feel the butterflies getting bigger in my stomach and warmth rushing to my core. I hope my cheeks haven't turned red. I can smell his cologne, and it's wrapping me into his presence like a blanket.
Is this like his super power or something to make himself known? I know my body, and right now, it's screaming I'M AWAKE!
He sticks his hand out, and I shake it, trying to ignore the tingling coming from his skin onto mine. It's taking him a little longer than formality to let my hand go.
Duh, he's waiting for my name. Guess I should remember what it is.
Think, woman. Think.
"Charlotte Hanston. I prefer Charlie."
His smile gets bigger, showing beautiful straight white teeth and showcasing the dimples for the entire wor
ld to see. He's speaking again. Dang, I have got to pay more attention right now.
I hear the beginnings of his gravelly baritone voice say the words I dreamt about hearing last semester. "I've seen you around campus. You're in the MBA program, right?"
Holy crap! He did notice me. My insides are officially dancing with excitement. "Yeah. Um, we actually had Business Ethics together last semester. You seemed new to Broxton." Wow. Way to achieve stalker status, Charlie. Stop the word vomit.
He blinks in what appears to be shock for a minute then blinks back into our conversation. "Yeah, I transferred here from Chicago for my job almost a year ago, and they're paying for me to go back to school."
I nervously giggle a bit. "Wow, that must be nice."
He laughs while fidgeting with his beer cup. "Yeah, but it means I have to commit another five years to them after I get my Master's."
I plant my hands in my back pockets to not touch him. "Ah loopholes, gotta love those. At least it's job security."
There's a quick silence for me to notice out of the corner of my eye that his friends, who are behind him, are staring at the two of us while laughing hysterically. They're making crude gestures and pointing at us.
They see me watching and immediately stop.
Okaaayyy? Is this some sort of joke? Send the hot guy to talk to the nervous, awkward girl?
I look back at Matt and see him looking down into my eyes like he's trying to read me. Then I glance back at his friends who are badly pretending not to stare at us. This is getting a little too weird for me, and I'm starting to feel a little suspicious. Before the nerves take over, I point over his shoulder, "I think your friends are waiting for you to get back over there."
He turns around and silently gives them a lovely middle finger salute then he turns back to me. He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I guess I have to go. It was nice to officially meet you, Charlotte. I'll see you around."
He smiles and winks at me. Oh lord, that was a hot wink. When he turns around, my mouth is open like a codfish when I stare at his beautiful, tight, butt as he walks farther away. My sweater suddenly feels too warm and even with it unzipped; I tug on the collar to get even a little extra air.
That was completely unexpected, and I'm not really sure what was going on with his friends. Was he mad that they broke his attempts to mess with me or did he actually want to meet me? There is no way I plan on being put in a potential bullied situation.
It’s amazing with all of the drama that has happened in my life, the bullying my senior year, and parts of college for being the quiet girl that I haven't had a nervous breakdown.
I'm only twenty-four, but I'm really weary of new people. I tend to stick with my core group of friends. It must be something from growing up in a tight-knit community and not wanting to relive any humiliating events.
Even Broxton isn't that big of a college. There are maybe 18,000 students between the undergrad and graduate programs. We don't even have a football team for goodness sake.
I wait for the girls to come back from the beer tent. I came out with my best friends Kylie and Briana, aka Bree, to enjoy the first concert of the semester. It's been a tradition of ours since we were able to ride our bikes to the amphitheater at age twelve. The outdoor concerts are usually all ages. We never had to miss out on all of the good music over the years. Our schedules tend to get crazy once classes start and workloads get bigger. I’m trying to have as much of a social life as I can before I go hibernating in the library.
When they get back, I've pretty much zoned out to the music and man candy that’s performing in front of me. I don't notice their return until Kylie tugs on one of my curls and Bree smacks my butt. I swear those two can be the biggest goofballs sometimes.
Before they can bombard me with questions, I turn the tables and ask them, "Y’all think you're ready to move closer to the stage? I want to move closer to Aaron's position at the front."
Bree stares at me intently. "You mean closer to your brother or closer to Chris Young?"
I try to hide my earlier anxiety with some laughter. "I'm going to vote for both. Although I doubt Aaron will even notice us unless we throw a burger at his face and even then, I doubt he'd break his Buckingham Palace mentality."
Kylie smirks. "Oh, he'd catch the burger using his cat-like reflexes and still not break focus. And he'd use those same reflexes if you attempted to touch Chris Young's butt. Let us recall the screen kissing incident last semester?"
Holding my defenses, I retort, "He caught me at the weirdest time. I blame you two for daring me to do it in the first place during wine night! One of these days, he won't be standing at the gate. He'll be right next to us watching, and I will really have to behave."
The Aiken Police Department has sign-ups for concert security, and Aaron is always chosen. He's very observant and can stay focused for hours. We even did the Buckingham Palace test on him several times to see if we could make him laugh while he was supposed to be working. His reflexes are awesome and borderline scary. It's probably one of the reasons he did so well in the military because he had what my parents call 'great temperament'. He has been out of the Air Force for the last two years and as proud of him as I was and still am, I missed him so much. We are actually quite close despite him being four years older than me. He is an amazing big brother, and I've always looked up to him, even when he was putting me in a headlock to give me a noogie. His overprotectiveness got intense several times over the years, especially when I was in high school and starting college. Honestly, I wouldn't change it for the world.
The girls are more than willing to get closer to the stage. Chris Young is just yummy. I enjoy eye candy as much as any hot-blooded American girl. The town council did an amazing line-up this year with the acts ready to perform. Next week, Cole Swindell will be here. I have to maintain composure, which is so much harder to do than it seems. I love all of his songs, plus he is definitely easy on the eyes.
That interaction with Matt has got my stomach all tangled. It’s one big tennis game between my brain and well...everything else below my brain. He's got my body on high alert. His voice was deep and inviting, like velvet draping across my skin. He smelled amazing. It mixed fresh snow and a bonfire, reminding me about the wonders of winter. I immediately wished I was warmly wrapped in his arms. Stop thinking about him. I have to dive back into reality and avoid being put in a messy situation.
I'm just going to let it go for now and be polite if I see him on campus. At best, we can become study partners or acquaintances since he is in the same program. Unless one of us transfers, seeing him over the next year is unavoidable, so why make it more awkward than it needs to be.
I've learned not to get my hopes up when it comes to dating. I definitely don't plan on being the butt of some joke either. I've had enough humiliation and disaster in my dating life that I know where my boundaries and standards lie. I can be timid around new people, but I am no pushover once my buttons are pressed. There is only one thing I can do right now. I plan to enjoy the rest of my night and prepare for a crazy work weekend.
After dancing half the night and constantly looking over my shoulder, I seriously wish I had taken the day off of work. My eyes have checked in several bags to stay the rest of the day from the sleep I didn't get last night. Every part of me aches, and I can't decide if it's from Matt's presence or being an anti-morning mutant. My longhaired and even longer-eared chestnut coated dachshund, Ruckus, even had a fitful night of sleep since I kept squirming and smacking my forehead against his belly. Poor little guy yelped when I rolled on top of him when trying to get comfortable against the pillows. He loves to snuggle near my head and this time, it wasn't in his favor.
Throughout my whole shift, I distract myself with the families that are still around after dropping their loved one off at Broxton or passing through after their vacations. Even if Matt noticed me last semester, I doubt he knows where I work so when I do catch myself daydreaming, it's about him walking into the caf
é and admitting to asking around about me. He sweeps off of my feet, into his arms, and tells me it was love at first sight. I considered putting ice cubes down the back of my work polo to cool off. Instead, I ran outside in between customers to let the cold morning air calm me down.
I attempt to take a nap when I get home before studying. It's only been a few classes, but I need to be as prepared as possible. I was smart to preset all of my alarms on my phone because I found myself covered in textbooks and an unhappy dog on Sunday morning. This is going to be a long semester if I can't get my head on straight.
Fuck you very much, Jeremy and Leo. Bastards can't stop laughing at me behind my back, and when I glance back she's watching it all like a car accident. No wonder she freaked. I have no idea how long they were doing that, which makes me want to unleash the dogs on them at five am after they jump in the pool. We're thirty-years-old for fuck's sake; we have to act like it at some point when it comes to members of the opposite sex. It's not like I've never talked to a woman before.
Damn, her voice was sexy. A sweet as sugar accent that was not overly and annoyingly high pitched, but not so low you'd think she was a smoker. I’m already trying to imagine her voice when she just wakes up or simply holding a normal conversation. Would her accent get thicker when she's angry or excited? Is her laugh boisterous or softly stated? Her giggle was so freaking cute, and I saw some pink touch her cheeks. My dick twitched painfully the whole time we spoke. I had to stop myself from dumping my cold beer all over myself just to get some relief.
Those lips. I'm gonna fuckin' jack off to those dark pink lips, imagining them around my dick. The bottom one was bigger than the top giving her a slight pout. I can just imagine running the edge of my tongue along from corner to corner and biting it. I take a good chug of my drink to settle myself down before I start smacking the shit out of the guys or throw my beer on both of them.
The Eyes That Own Me (Timing is Everything Book 1) Page 2