The anxious feeling deep in my gut won’t quit. It only gets more intense as Julia walks behind me, politely maneuvering her small frame between the crowd of people. I watch her from my periphery, listening to the rhythmic sound of her heels and watching how her hips sway gently.

She doesn’t notice me, which is by my design, but still it aggravates me. She passes so close behind me on her way to the restrooms that I catch a hint of her sweet scent. No doubt it’s perfume, a gentle floral with a citrus of some sort, but as it fills my lungs I can’t help but grip the bar top tighter to keep myself from following her.

Ever since I caught a glimpse of her, I haven’t been able to move or get her out of my head. For months, I haven’t thought twice about her. Each time her picture swept into my thoughts, I pushed it away.

But she’s here now, so close that I could touch her.

I can’t approach her though. How fucked up would that be?

Her eyes haunt me, but her body tempts me. And she doesn’t know a damn bit of the truth. I can’t cross that line. That’s not the man I want to be. Not anymore.

I down the whiskey and slide the empty glass forward.

As I stand up abruptly, the stool slides backward and bumps into someone. I turn to look over my shoulder while reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. “Sorry,” I say without thinking and then stare at Julia.

Her eyes still aren’t on me as she waves off my apology, looking at the bottles lining the back of the bar before finally setting her gorgeous blue eyes on me.

She shakes her head just slightly, making her hair fall off her shoulder and exposing more of her bare skin. “It’s fine,” she says sweetly and then walks forward, stepping up to the bar on my right, coming closer to me. Like a lamb stepping into the lion’s den, teasing and taunting unknowingly.

She’s so fucking close to me, so damn alluring. The black dress clings to her curves. Her hips are wide and I can just imagine how they’d feel to hold as I took her from behind. I can feel Patricia’s eyes flicker to me as Julia orders, but I can’t help staring at Julia.

I swallow thickly, leaning my forearms against the bar and trying to act casual, getting that much closer to her.

She doesn’t know anything and she doesn’t have to. She’ll never know the truth and this is my chance to learn more about who the pretty face in the picture is.

“Julia, right?” I ask her. My heart pounds as, thinking why the hell would I admit that I know anything at all about her. I don’t intend to lie to her though. Nothing but lies of omission. I’ve heard her name in the social circles. Her family is well known so I doubt she’ll be surprised that I recognize her.

“Jules,” she says warmly, now looking at me differently than she did a moment ago. She seems to do a double take and a hint of playfulness sparkles in her eyes. It’s as if I’m suddenly what she’s been looking for. Or maybe who she’s been waiting for.

“Ah, Jules.” I tap my fingers on the bar and look away for a moment. What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t just playing with fire, this is worse. It’s asking to be burned and shoving my fists into the coals.

Patricia sets two shots of what look like chilled tequila in front of Jules. I eye them and then her as she throws the first one back without thinking twice. Her slender fingers slip around the second one, ready to down it as well.

I can fucking feel the pain coming off her in waves. She’s drowning it in alcohol. She’s good at hiding her emotions on the surface, but her actions speak so much louder than words.

“Not gonna share?” I ask her teasingly, more to keep her from drinking it then the desire to have it for myself.

She licks her lips and smiles. “You want it?”

Goddamn, does she know how she’s coming off right now? She’s already testing me, because just hearing those words slip between her lips has my dick straining in my pants. Yes, I fucking want it. She’s practically forbidden. The only woman in this city I should be ashamed to look in the eyes.

“If you’re offering,” I answer her with a flirtatiousness I don’t recognize. She blushes and tucks her hair back behind her ear. As she pulls her eyes away from me, she catches a glimpse of something across the room that rips the happiness from her in an instant.

I throw the shot back but keep my eyes on her. The cold liquid burns. I was right about it being tequila. It’s strong too. Stronger than I expected and it takes the breath from me, making my chest feel tight, but then it relaxes me all the way down.

I hold up two fingers for Patricia, “Another two,” I order and slip the stool I’d been sitting on over to Jules as I continue to stand. “Let me get you another,” I offer her. Instantly her eyes come back to me.

I watch as they swirl with a mix of questions. The vulnerability is clearly there and that only makes her that much more enticing.

“I’m not sure I should,” she says softly. Her honesty is so raw, so genuine.

“You really shouldn’t,” I answer her with complete honesty as well. She deserves that much. She’s little Red Riding Hood in fuck-me-heels and I’m worse than the Big Bad Wolf. I lean forward, knowing I’m breaking every rule I have and bring my lips just inches from her ear.

Her fingers tighten on the edge of the stool as I whisper, “But you want to. And this is so much better than whatever you were going to do.” I’m not sure if my confession is for her or for me, but either way, I’ve convinced myself.

My rough voice and hot breath make goosebumps rail down her shoulder. Her nipples pebble under her dress and I can just barely make them out as I pull away from her, offering her space and an out.

She could leave if she wanted to. She could walk away. Fuck, she could call me an asshole if she wanted to, and I’d sit here and do my best to pretend I’ll never go after her again. In this moment, I can’t say with confidence I’d never approach her again.

It takes a moment for Jules to pull herself together. She stands there in what seems like a daze. It’s only when Patricia sets the shot glasses down, spilling just a touch of the chilled tequila over the edge of one glass, that she comes back to me.

I take the one closest to her and hold it out to her. She keeps her eyes on me but accepts it.

“Here’s to things we know we shouldn’t do,” I tell her with a smile, lifting my glass and extending it for a toast.

Slowly, so very slowly, that bit of happiness comes back to her. Her eyes keep flickering with uncertainty to the floor and across the room.

“Here’s to happiness,” she says with feigned confidence, making her shoulders straighter as she clinks her glass against mine and then throws it back. She slams hers down on the bar while I’m still left holding mine and watching her every move.

I toss it back as she picks up her clutch, obviously ready to pay for the shots.

“Don’t,” I tell her with more strength in my voice than I should have used. I lighten my tone as I say, “It’s on me.” I hesitate then add, “I was just getting ready to leave.”

She watches me warily, but I look toward Patricia as I get out my own wallet. All the while paying attention to Jules in my periphery.

“Well, thank you… what’s your name?” she asks.

“Mason,” I answer her hoping she’s never heard of me, but she brightens and nods her head.

“Thatcher. Yes, I thought I recognized you.” She bites the inside of her cheek as something hits her. Her expression falls slightly. “I’m sorry to hear-”

I cut off her apology, and then pass my card to Patricia. “To happiness, right?” It hurts me to say the words, but I don’t bother to hide it.

That only makes her lips turn down into an alluring frown, somehow making her look even more beautiful. We’re both in pain. Both getting over something. Only this shit I did to myself and she’s collateral damage.

She catches the glimpse of someone behind me and it makes her turn to the bar again, her back straight and the playfulness gone.

“To happiness, and to the things that we want,” I tell her as I sign the receipt and leave the pen on the bar. I spear my fingers through my hair, feeling the heat of the moment and the buzz of the liquor starting to affect me.

I glance at her and watch as she closes her eyes. It’s affecting her too. She’s easy prey -- beautiful, naive, innocent. I’m an asshole for doing it, but I can’t help that I want her.

“I’m gonna get out of here,” I say then let my eyes roam down her body, not hiding what I want from her. “You wanna come with?”

If you’d like to read the rest of Imperfect, it’s available at all your favorite book stores. (!)