I pull up short as rapid-fire first impressions overtake all rational thought.
She’s taller than I expected. Fit. Her swinging, chin-length hair is more auburn than red, with coppery streaks that catch the light. Her skin is honeyed rather than fair, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Minimal makeup. A cute white top and faded jeans. A wicked smile because she knows she’s caught me off guard.
Like I said, holy shit.
They’re riveting behind her tortoiseshell glasses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with true green eyes before. I’m not talking about that vague hazel color that can’t decide whether it wants to be green or brown when it grows up. I’m talking about a vivid green that’s the color of Ireland when you picture it in your mind. The color of emeralds so fine that only Queen Elizabeth or Mariah Carey could afford them. Which maybe accounts for their enhanced sparkle because, let me assure you, this kind of wattage is not normal.
She smells like a handful of berries fucked a bouquet of flowers and produced the type of scent that Aphrodite wore when they appointed her the goddess of sex.
“Hey,” she says, topping it all off with the sort of mellow voice you’d love to have whispering your name in your ear when you come. She gives me a swift once-over that causes color to bloom in her cheeks. I’m taking that as a positive sign. “I’m Skye.”
She certainly is.
With that introduction, I make it my life’s ambition to fuck this woman soon and often. Once I, you know, solve world hunger and establish peace on earth. Oh, and make sure my kids grow up healthy, happy and kind.
So much for proving there’s nothing special about her.
“Hey,” I say, working hard to get my brain back online. I mean to smile back at her, but it appears I’ve lost the ability to multitask.
“Not what you were expecting?” she asks, her own smile fading.
“A thousand percent more than I was expecting. Let me assure you.”
“That’s good to hear,” she says, her re-blossoming grin glorious enough to give me heart palpitations. “A lot of times there’s a little hug and kiss when you first meet, so I thought I’d better check.”
I give that some quick thought. “I’m not sure how many hugs and kisses I’m going to get tonight, so I’m going to save it.”
One of her delicate brows goes up. “Is it saved or waived?”
“Oh, it’s definitely saved.” I extend a hand because I still want to touch her, the sooner the better. “Jake.”
“Great to meet you, Jake.”
Another set of jumbled impressions hits me as we shake.
Great eye contact. Firm grip. Soft hands. Crackling electricity.
I’m in love.
My dick is, anyway…