It took everything she had not to run from the room at the realization.
She counted her steps to keep the strike of her heels against the hardwood floor even, though she granted herself the concession of using the main bathroom, because it was closer than her en suite, and because she was afraid her knees might give out with the effort of appearing unconcerned if she had to fake it for even a second longer.
She slammed the door shut behind her in her haste for privacy. Once it was locked, Vivienne blew out a breath and set her purse on the counter.
Get your shit together, she lectured herself.
Leaning forward, she met her own eyes in the mirror. Her pupils were large, her hair was mussed, and her lipstick was smeared.
She looked like she’d just been ravaged in an elevator.
She lifted her hand, restoring order and precision to the sharp angle of her bob.
It was just sex with the ex, she assured herself.
No big deal.
Digging into her purse, Vivienne pulled out her small makeup case and extracted a travel pack of makeup wipes and her signature red lipstick, laying them with precision on the marble countertop, as though she was about to scrub for surgery, rather than tackle the faint crimson stain that had migrated outside her lip line.
Tugging one of the disposable cloths free, Viv set about restoring the cool, controlled facade she was known for.
She’d curated a very precise version of herself in the years since they’d been Wes and Viv, but today was the first time she’d considered how much he’d changed, too. With his expensive suit and his fancy watch.
All the trappings of his success, so different from the boy she’d known, and yet...
He still had this way of sucking up all the oxygen in the room, dominating her thoughts without even trying. Hell, the aftereffects of him were still fizzing in her blood. Not that she was surprised. That body of his had always affected her like a narcotic.
Even the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
God, he was beautiful. So intense that she couldn’t look away.
A tiger in a room full of hyenas. Or more accurately, a man in a room full of drunken frat boys. She’d be surprised later that night, over tacos and tequila, to learn that he was a mere two months more experienced with being twenty than she was, but in that moment, he’d seemed so mature and so above the frat party that Jesse Hastings had all but begged her and her roommate to attend. And the way he’d filled out his white T-shirt and worn jeans hadn’t hurt, either.
She’d never believed in instant lust before that night. She’d seen plenty of hot guys who hadn’t affected her beyond the clinical acknowledgment of their good-lookingness.
She’d never been desperate to taste any of them.
Mesmerized, she watched him survey his surroundings as he lifted the red plastic cup full of foamy keg beer to his mouth. Frat party booze was cheap and utilitarian, the path of least resistance to drunkenness. Even in the awful lighting—a bunch of neon beer signs and some bargain-basement, light-up disco ball provided by the delusional frat brother with visions of DJ stardom in his future who had cranked up the bass to teeth-jarring levels—she was entranced by his throat, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and the way his tongue darted out to catch the remnants of the foam that had dotted his upper lip.
Something warm throbbed to life between her thighs.
Then, as though he sensed her single-minded fascination with him, he turned his head, and their eyes met with a jolt of instant attraction that, a split second earlier, she’d thought only existed in the dirty-sexy romance novels she favored when she could afford to take a study break.
Viv dropped her gaze immediately, heat washing over her skin at being caught staring like some perverted stalker. As much as she wanted to blame the burn on embarrassment, it wasn’t just that. Beneath the fabric of her short, flirty red dress, her nipples had drawn tight so quickly that it hurt. In the best possible way.
Composing herself, she ventured a peek at him, relieved to find the full weight of his attention remained on her. Whatever the undeniable force that had sprung up between them, he wasn’t immune to it either.
Something dark and hot slid through her as he started toward her. He walked with the loose-hipped ease of someone who was comfortable in his skin, and the crowd seemed to part for him as he drew closer. Vivienne couldn’t help but notice that there was none of the boastful swagger of a college jock in his approach. Just quiet, determined confidence.
Bam! Lust-struck.
She was thoroughly seduced before he even reached her.
“Seven out of ten.” Viv raised her voice to be heard over the thudding bass.
He quirked a brow at the assessment.
“Your approach could use some work. Most guys would have brought me a drink to break the ice.”
“Are you here with one?” he asked. His voice was deep and sexy.
“One what?”
He leaned closer under the guise of being heard over the music, and his breath on her jaw was like the lick of a flame. “One of those guys who would have brought you a drink?”
Touché. She dipped her head, hiding her smile. “Maybe I’m keeping my options open.” Vivienne looked up at him through her lashes, pouring it on thick. “Or maybe I was waiting for you.”
He, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide his lopsided grin, and the flash of white teeth hit her veins like nitroglycerin. “I find that hard to believe.”
She shrugged in a way she hoped was mysterious. “Daddy issues. He never put me at the center of his world, so now I sit in the shadows, waiting for someone to notice me.” Viv shook her head melodramatically so that he’d assume it
