I’ve always believed that if a man really wants you, he’ll do whatever it takes to have you. Of course, there’s a line. A determined alpha male is not the same as a stalking creep who you have no interest in and who won’t take no for an answer. The difference is how the woman feels. We give out clues – sometimes they’re misinterpreted – that indicate our true feelings. Those clues are the wonderful, sexy tension that all great romance novels are made of. For instance:
Does she like the attention? Does she feel it under her skin? Does she enjoy the chase? Can other people see the clues? Does she actually want with all of her contrary perhaps scared little heart to be caught and loved and well, you know how I get down. *winks*
In this unedited snippet which picks up where my last blog leaves off, our hero Tan lets Sinna know that she can run, but he’s quite adept at the chase.
Oh, the picture is V from BTS. This is a bit like what I envision my character Bik to look like, only the blue eyes are real…can you imagine? Sigh…
“Thank you, but I’ll be here late.” She gestured to the pile of boxes.
He laughed softly. “Some other time then.”
She just smiled. Not if she could help it.
But she hadn’t counted on Tan’s persistence, or the others combined efforts to put them together. In group settings, they were inevitably seated next to each other, and Sinna just shook her head at how her team was suddenly busy elsewhere whenever anything had to be done involving Tan. They were so obvious it would have been laughable if she wasn’t so busy.
Worse, it was starting to get to her. She hadn’t had a lover in a very long time, and when someone as attractive as Tan was constantly near, standing too close, offering this or that, staring at her like she’d hung the moon, it was unnerving.
What the fuck was he doing anyway? Being so public? Wasn’t it against the rules for idols to date? Was he trying to get her killed? She’d heard how rabid K-pop fans got when their idols dared to acknowledge their interest in an actual person rather than simply stand by and be worshiped at the idol fan altar.
None of which mattered in the least since she found him incredibly attractive. The Korean heart flutters that featured so prominently in the dramas she’d taken to watching in the evening had hit her on more than one occasion when he smiled, laughed, stared intently, breathed, or touched her in even the most casual way. Only they weren’t in her heart. They were in her belly, her breasts, between her legs, and skittering merrily along the back of her neck and shoulders.
It was extremely annoying that she was pleased whenever she looked up and caught him staring. She was too old for this shit. There was no money in puppy love, for God’s sake. But Tan wasn’t a puppy, and her body knew it.
He was tall, built, and exotic. His body – to her – was perfect. She’d already made a mental note to watch his manager, however. That fat fucker could give somebody an eating disorder with his nagging.
It was so unnecessary. These idols dripped sweat for hours at dance rehearsals. She knew from Saint that except for Bik, who had a few health concerns and was naturally as lanky as he was charming, they all worked out regularly as well.
Tan’s broad shoulders led to a narrow waist, long, elegant legs, large feet and big, well-shaped hands. His face was a work of art. Uber dark brows and long, dark lashes surrounded huge hazel eyes in near milk pale skin. Apparently he over heated easily, thus avoided the sun like the plague.
She honestly didn’t think she’d seen a more handsome man in a long time. That was saying something since she was surrounded by them at home and at work. Even among the best the fashion industry had to offer, Tan was something special.
All the more reason for her to stay away. After so long, the idea of sharing her body should have been scary. Instead, Sinna realized she’d happily lie down with this sexy Korean-Greek idol and enjoy every moment. That was a no no.
The thought of falling in love with a cub made her cringe. How pathetic! A woman damn near 10 years his senior puffing after him, using every excuse to smooth fabric over those wide shoulders, button buttons around that smooth throat.
“No, what?” Saint.
“This won’t do,” she held up her tablet to hopefully indicate the email she was not looking at.
“You need to lighten up. We’re all going out drinking tonight. Soju and chicken feet.”
Saint laughed. “We don’t have to eat the feet, but the Soju is a national staple. You’ll hate it, but it feels good.”
“You’ve had it?”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because we grew up together, and you know I never turn down a good time,” he shrugged.