Connected (Connections, #1)(27)

Then one drunken girls night out, I met the man who is now leading me to his hotel room and wondered to myself; Could I suddenly believe in love at first sight? How could love at first sight even exist when you were already in love with someone else?

And now, after River’s serenade in the elevator, I’m asking myself that very same question again. Only this time, the man I was already in love with is gone. Ben is just a beautiful memory of my past, and with that, the ‘danger’ of the man next to me is gone as well.

Shaking my head to rid any thoughts of love, I choose to focus on lust instead. My body begins to tremble slightly and I have an ache that seems to radiate from everywhere. I want this man to touch me. I need him to touch me. Honestly, I want more—a lot more. I’m fairly certain he wants that too. All I have to do is finish my interview first so we can move on to what I’ve wanted to do since I first saw him.

River pauses at the door while he takes the key that’s already in his hand and slides it into the key slot, pushing the door open. He drops his hand and puts it on the small of my back as he guides me into the suite. Walking in, I mentally take back my thoughts that he’s almost famous. This suite is definitely for famous people. It has floor-to-ceiling windows along the entire back wall. The living room is decorated similar to the hallway with soft color tones and contains a fireplace. The dining room houses a light beech wood table for twelve, and the kitchen is equipped with white marble countertops, built in coffee maker, and even a gas stove. The hardwood and marble flooring is like nothing I’ve seen in a hotel suite before. There is even a small swimming pool with a hot tub on the balcony overlooking the strip. The suite feels bigger than my house.

Setting his guitar down in the corner, he leaves his hand on my back while guiding me toward the window. He stands still for a moment, and I wonder what he is thinking. He slides his tongue over his bottom lip in an insanely hot manner. We’re so close that I can feel his warm breath on the nape of my neck. I admire his gorgeous face and smooth skin. I can almost touch his fully defined abdominal muscles through his t-shirt. He is so unbelievably good looking. I feel my heart quicken and if he gets any closer, I might just free-fall out the window, but I continue to look at him. His facial features are so alluring: he has a strong jaw, a sculpted nose, an extremely toned body, and his personality is extremely captivating.

“There isn’t another view in Las Vegas like the one from this window at night,” he says while unlocking the sliding glass doors and opening them. “I hope you plan to stick around to see the city light up.” Not waiting for an answer, he brushes by me to walk toward the kitchen, but not before dragging his fingers across the span of my back. His slight touch sends tingles all the way up to my neck.

On his way into the kitchen, he texts something on his phone, but I don’t ask what.

Watching River walk that walk to the kitchen, I can only smile. “Is that an invitation? Because I didn’t think I needed one,” I tease, now laughing out loud and grinning widely.

“You don’t,” he says as he turns back to catch me staring at his backside. He winks at me, and then grins so wide his dimples are almost pulsing.

River plugs his phone into an iPod dock on the counter and U2’s Beautiful Day surrounds us as he glances at me from under his brows, a small grin curving from his lips, and he hums along to the song. What is he doing?

Opening the refrigerator, River pulls out two bottles of beer. He lifts one up and asks, “Is this okay? I’m not really a good bartender, but I can try to whip up something if you want.”

I nod my head, my ever-present smile still in place. “It’s perfect. Can I get a glass of ice please?”

“Hmmm . . .” I hear River say, still grinning at me and shaking his head.

He starts opening and closing a few cupboards until he finds the glasses. He pulls down two and places them on the counter. After filling one with ice from the dispenser on the refrigerator door and pouring the beer into the glasses, he walks toward the large L shaped sofa and motions for me to come over and have a seat.

As I walk toward him, I can’t help but notice how hot he looks. He’s like a magnet, and I’m a piece of metal being pulled to him without control. When I’m close enough to see into his eyes, the ones I have looked into one too many times, this time I’m thinking I hope they don’t let me out.

Raising an eyebrow, he says, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and trying to resist the pull.

“Hmmm . . .” I hear again as he walks even closer to me. He motions with one hand for me to sit. I do as he suggests, and he hands me my drink and says, “That’s not very definitive.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

I’m a little distracted by his messy but perfect hair and overall good looks. I want to ask him if he has any idea how attractive he is. What’s wrong with me? I’m giddy like a teenager for Christ sakes!

Taking a large sip of my drink to cool down my overheated body, I immediately feel it; a brain-freeze. I squint my eyes trying to stop it, to will it away.

“Much colder with ic . . .” I hear him start to say, but the end of his sentence trails off.

I look up as he sets his glass on the table. He must have noticed my brain-freeze face because he says, “Close your eyes.”