In the midst of my phone conversation with Steve, the bar stool to my right had been vacated and re-occupied without my noticing. The thick as molasses voice came from a guy in a three-piece dark grey suit, black leather dress shoes, and an understated but non-the-less impressive Rolex which peeked from beneath the cuff, to reveal a light dusting of dark hair at the wrist. His hands were huge, like super huge! You can tell a lot about a person from their hands and these were capable hands. Hands of a man who worked hard and didn’t just push a pencil all day, trimmed nails with plenty of calluses, and the occasional scar to show he dove right in when it came to dirty work, a man’s man in gentleman’s clothes.
But more noticeable than his big hands, which at that moment I suddenly ached to have on me, was the most intoxicating scent of the man; an alluring mix of spice, woods, and confidence, like he’d just chopped down enough trees to make a log house and then swiped Old Spice under his arms —it was hot! I looked up from my phone, straight into piercing cobalt blue eyes and flicked down to a cocky but adorable smirk on an even more adorable mouth —scratch that —a sexy, delicious and unbelievably kissable mouth. My core clenched as I envisioned that mouth traveling down my body and ending between my legs. Holy shit! Where did that come from? More to the point, where did you come from Mr. Sexy Mouth?
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