He was huge, at least six foot five, and built of pure muscle. Dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans. Dark hair, dark blue eyes, tattoos up and down his arms. Hair cut in the popular Peaky Blinders undercut, long on the top and shaved on the sides.
But it was really the expression on his face that got her. Something like amusement flitted across his features, but she could tell that there was something raw there. Anger, or self-hatred maybe.
She realized she was staring a second before he looked at her, his eyes traveling from her face down to her long legs, then back up to her tits.
Then, he looked her right in the face and smiled.
A chill ran through her body at his expression. It was like having a big cat grinning at her, tightly wound and ready to pounce.
She blushed and looked down. That didn’t stop him from sliding over to take the spot next to her, though.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
He was British, which was something of a shock. His voice was a lovely, velvety purr that matched his looks perfectly. She looked up at him again, a little awestruck. Cam cleared her throat, suddenly nervous, but willed her voice to remain steady.
“Sure,” she said. “Whiskey, on the rocks.”
He turned to the bar, looking around for the bartender. He waved him down, though the words of his order were lost in the melee all around them. He paid for the drinks, then turned to Cam with the drink dangling from his fingers.
“Thanks,” she said.
Their fingers touched as she took it. He took a sip of his drink without breaking eye contact. She had to smile, because either the man was a born predator or he did this a lot.
Not that she was dissuaded by it. She took a long swallow of her drink, thinking that maybe there was a cosmic reason why Liz hadn’t shown. She wasn’t really the type to take men home, but he was so good looking…
“Are you gonna tell me your name?” he asked, arching a brow.
His voice was cultured, polished, as if he’d just stepped out of Parliament. And yet, he was here, at a punk rock show. She looked at him with curiosity.
“Cameron,” she said. “Cam.”
“Smith,” he said.
He offered her a hand, which she shook. A thousand tiny spikes of energy crawled over her skin, and it was hard not to look at him with doe eyes. She resisted, though, playing it casual.
“So…” she said, reclaiming her hand. “Are you here to see the band?”
He shifted, making her all the more aware of his muscles beneath the leather jacket and Death From Above 1979 t-shirt.
“The Blinds? I am. The drummer’s a friend of mine,” he said.
She didn’t know what to say, so instead she filled the silence with taking another big pull of her drink. At the rate she was going, she was going to be tipsy before she knew it.
Cam looked at the ridiculously hot punk rocker, biting her lip. Would it be so bad to let her freak flag fly, just for one night?
“You want another drink?” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome asked.
She looked down at the drink in her hands, surprised to find it empty.
“Yeah, why not?” she said. “It’s early, right?”
He grinned again and waved down the bartender. She took the opportunity to check him out some more. He had a dimple on the right side of his face that flashed when he grinned. And his leather jacket was rolled up at the elbows, revealing strong forearms, veiny and muscular in a way that made her knees weak.
She looked away, running her hand down her hip, sheathed in the little leather dress. She had to get up early tomorrow for work. She was starting a new assignment, working undercover at Calloway Corp, posing as a secretary to try to find out if a few financial inconsistencies were just that… or more.
But since her last assignment as an investigative reporter had involved discovering -- via telephone call -- what went on at slaughterhouses, she’d promised herself a few days off before starting something new. She worked hard, and deserved every bit of it.
The band started assembling onstage as he handed her another drink. They weren’t especially memorable, but the lead singer had bright green hair, pulled into spikes all over his head.
Smith started to bob his head in appreciation. She smiled. It was hard not to admire appreciation, especially when it was expressed by someone so damned good looking
“Here,” he said, holding his cup up to give a toast. “To new experiences and living every moment to the fullest.”
Her lips curled up as she tapped her cup to his, then took a sip. He really was playing with her, teasing her with his salute. One glance at him and she was certain that he’d perfected his moves long ago, the toast merely the beginning of it.
Then again, he wasn’t saying much. Maybe his shtick was being good looking and mysterious, then. He was no doubt used to girls nervously standing next to him, looking at him with wide eyes just as she’d done.
Maybe it was time that she took control, that she put the moves on him. She had a vague desire to wipe the smirk off his face. Who was to say she couldn’t do that with her mouth?
The band started playing, the lights dimming. It was as if it was meant to be.
Cam put her drink down and stepped up to him, looking him straight in the eye. He raised his brows, facing her as he set his cup down. Before she could hesitate or flinch, she reached out and grabbed the lapel of his jacket.
Gripping him hard, she pulled him down and kissed him.
The contact of his lips against her own was like lightning. The sensation crackled along her skin, sent a fission of pleasure down her spine. He seemed surprised by the kiss at first, but after a moment he kissed her back, threading his fingers into her hair.
The kiss was like fire, beginning small but growing to a roaring blaze in moments. She slid her arm around his waist and closed the gap between them, her toes curling in her boots.
He broke away to kiss her neck. She moaned, a combination of satisfaction and yearning. Her nails dug into the back of his neck. He growled low in his chest.
“You are quite a surprise, aren’t you?” he ground out.
She didn’t answer, just kissed him again, hard. Her tongue clashed with his, a war between them that they both enjoyed. When she pulled back and bit his lower lip, he growled again, his hands working down her body.
When his hands hit her ass, she worked up the nerve to step back, cocking her head.
“Do you want to… go somewhere?” she asked, enjoying the fact that she was the instigator.
“God, yes,” he said.
She bit her lip, trying not to grin. She looked at him under her lashes. Something about him screamed TAKE ME HOME. He was a perfect stranger, but she felt somehow that she could trust him.
“Good. My apartment is right down the street.”
“Lead the way,” he said, inclining his head.
Cam grabbed her clutch and wove through the crowd, out into the darkened street. The streetlights were out on the whole block, in fact in most of the neighborhood. It wasn’t exactly the greatest neighborhood, but she made do. Cam lived in a warehouse loft just down the street from here, so she was well aware of the neighborhood’s colorful reputation.
“Do we need to grab a car?” he asked as she made her way through the parking lot.
“Not really. I live two blocks from here,” she said, moving faster to keep from feeling awkward.
“You