My back straightens, my breath hitching a little. “How d’you mean?” I ask quietly, trying to weave interest through my words. I try. All that’s woven through every word I’m speaking to this man is intrigue. And desire.
“I mean”—he starts, leaning in a bit—“you’ve clearly never been consumed by a man.” He pauses, giving me a moment to agree, but I don’t. I’m fixated on him. “But one day a man will come along and he’ll swallow you up, Annie. Blindside you.” There’s suggestion in his words that I’m finding hard not to be curious about. And I’m still just staring at him.
My pulse pounds in my ears as he pulls away and turns back toward the bar, calling the barman over. I don’t hear what he orders. My surroundings have been reduced to a blur of activity, the loud sounds of the bar now a distant white noise. There’s a magnetic appeal to Jack—not just his looks, but his persona, his voice…his words.
“Here.” He takes my limp hand and removes the water, handing me a shot glass. The contact wrenches me from my trance, and I glance around, finding the world is still happening around me. Chinking glasses with me, he smiles that lovely smile—the one that had me hooked the moment I saw him. “Here’s to being blindsided,” he says, raising his glass.