Excerpt from my untitled WIP Erotic Fantasy Romance Series...
His eyes are so blue they look like the sea. Is that normal?
Blair frowned as he stared at the gorgeous man. Tall, lean and muscular with light golden brown hair cut short with blunt burnished blond tips in front. The man had been sitting at the bar, drinking in silence for the last hour occasionally looking at the mirror that lined the wall behind the large wooden counter. He lifted his glass and swirled the amber colored liquid then drank it.
Blair licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt like it had been filled with sand. The problem was the only way his thirst could be satisfied was by the tall drink of water sitting at the other end of the bar. The man was hot with a sprinkling of bad ass on the side.
I gotta stop looking at him. He's gonna think I'm a stalker. Or some other kind of weirdo.
Just like himself, the man drank alone at the bar. Yet unlike him, he had no interest in the happenings around him, save for the whereabouts of the bartender whenever his glass became empty from barreling down the shots of whiskey.
Blair glanced at his club soda and wondered why he was in such a dive, drinking what was obviously more fit for a ladies luncheon than a hardcore place such as this. But then this being his first foray away from home, how else was he to learn the protocols of coolness until he experimented?
The music blaring from the speaker's slowed to a gentle hum. Suddenly the conversations around him seemed louder. He inhaled paused then exhaled loudly.
“Okay here goes nothing,” he said pushing himself away from the bar.
Blair mustered all of his courage and walked over to him, sliding onto the seat beside him.
“Bartender,” the man said.
The bartender walked to him. “Another?”
“Of course,” the man said with a edge in his voice.
Blair cleared his throat. “Umm, I've got this. I'll pay for his drink.”
“Thanks but you don't have to,” the man replied.
“I want to.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
The bartender poured him another drink. This time the man didn't pick it up but gazed at it.
“What's your name?” he asked still looking at the glass.
“Blair Dakotah. Yours?”
The man pursed his lips, then lifted the glass, placed it in front of his lips and sipped. “Cicero.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Blair said extending his hand.
