Home > Love At First Sight (Love Comes First Book 2)(8)

Love At First Sight (Love Comes First Book 2)(8)
Author: Olivia T. Turner

“What?” I ask in a panic as I turn back around.

“Princeton,” Nolan says, urging me on with his eyes.

I just stare blankly.

He rolls his eyes. “I told Mr. Brown that you went to Princeton.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.”

Nolan elaborates when I don’t. “He was the only one of us Bowen kids to go to college.”

“He’s the smart one?” Mr. Brown says, not looking too enthused. “Oh, great.”

I know I should keep my attention at the table, but I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her empty seat. The waiter for their table is already talking to the woman in the purple dress and scribbling something down on his notepad. Where is she?

I don’t know how I’m going to react if she doesn’t show up tonight. An image of me grabbing the tie of the old man next to her seat and forcing him to give me her address flashes into my head. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…

“I’m a Princetonian myself,” Mr. Brown says with a nostalgic smile on his face. “In fact, I have a humorous story about my first time entering Nassau Hall. Listen closely to this, Eli. You’ll love it. I walked in and—”

His smile fades when I stand up and walk away from the table.

Carrie has entered the hall and I’m being drawn to her with an irresistible pull. My heart freezes in my chest, but then it unlocks and starts pounding viciously, vibrating through me as I take in the gorgeous view in front of me.

She’s standing in the entrance of the hall like a goddess in a long tight black dress that has no business being in front of all these men. She belongs in my room where only my lustful eyes can feast on her beauty.

Her blonde hair is pulled back tight and wrapped in a bun. My hands shake with every step as I imagine sinking my fingers into it and pulling it out, letting her wavy blonde hair fall free all around her stunning face.

“Callaway,” she says with a grin when she sees me barreling down on her with stalled breaths and tingling skin. My adrenaline is through the roof, but I still can’t manage to find any words. This temptress steals my tongue every time I see her. She breaks my brain. “You look… pretty damn good.”

I glance down at my suit and thank the party gods that I packed my best one. It’s a fitted dark navy blue suit and I’m wearing a white shirt with a light gray tie.

I’m probably looking the best I can, but it’s still nothing compared to her. She looks phenomenal. Nothing but two thin straps on her bare shoulders holding up what looks like the only thin material between me and her naked body.

My mouth starts to water when I imagine her soft pink nipples rubbing against the inside of that dress. Her neckline plunges down, showing just enough of her luscious cleavage to drive an obsessed possessive man like myself crazy.

I want to tell her how stunning she is. That I’ll never look at another girl like I’m looking at her. I want to tell her that I love her and that I will never stop loving her. That I’ll be hers forever.

“You’re late.”

She snorts out a laugh as she walks by me, shaking her head. “You’re full of lines, aren’t you, Callaway? You should teach a class.”

My eyes drop down her toned back and fall all the way to her ass that looks mesmerizing, swaying with every step she takes on her black heels.

I’m cursing myself as I catch up to her. Why can’t I say anything right with this girl?

“I meant… I was waiting to see you.”

She stops abruptly between two tables. Eyes start drifting up to us as she waits for me to make a fool of myself yet again with a grin on her unbelievably gorgeous face. “And?”

“And what?” I ask.

She drops her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Eli. Have you never met a girl before? Well, let me explain something to you. When a girl makes a grand entrance wearing a dress she spent a month’s salary on, you compliment her.”

“You look—”

“Too late.” She spins away and I hear a few chuckles from the people eavesdropping around me as she heads over to her table.

I watch her smile as she takes a seat. “Hello, everyone! Sorry to be late. I have a little puppy with bone cancer and I had to wait for my neighbor to bring him here so I could give him his shot. She was too squeamish to do it.”

My palms are all sweaty as I look around the table at all the men’s eyes on her. This girl could have any guy she wants and I really want that guy to be me. I need something big.

A grand gesture to grab her attention for good.

“Yes,” I whisper when it hits me.

I run back to my table just as Mr. Brown is about to say something. “Good, you’re back, Eli. This is important. I’d like you to hear it. Nolan and I were discussing—”

I snatch my phone off the table and race out of the hall, ignoring Mr. Brown. He can take his nine figures and keep it for all I care. I have something to get that’s way more important than money.

Getting Carrie is all I care about now.

My pulse is racing as I dial the phone in the quiet of the hallway. It rings twice.

“Brooke!” I say when my sister answers. “I need your help. Badly.”

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

Carrie

 

 

I know I’m torturing this man, but I don’t know why it’s so fun.

I can feel Eli’s eyes on me from across the room, but I haven’t looked over at him once. Although, that’s definitely taken some effort. He’s incredibly hot and he’s looking scorching in that fitted navy suit that is so lucky with the way it gets to be glued to his big arms and broad shoulders. It took everything I had not to run my hands along the soft material to feel the hardness of him underneath.

“Are you finished?” the waitress asks me as she reaches for my plate.

“Yes, thanks,” I say as the staff clears our table. We just finished the main meal and the DJ is warming up the place with some 90’s music.

After the upbeat song finishes, the DJ plays a slow song by Mariah Carey and a few couples make their way over to the dance floor.

I’m itching to look over at Eli, but I keep my eyes glued to the table.

“Would you like to dance, Carrie?” Mr. Miller asks in a tone that’s more of a statement than a question.

“With who?” I respond, looking at him blankly.

“With me,” he answers, his tone harshening.

“I think it’s time for the coffee,” I say, looking around in a panic. “And the desserts must be on their way.”

He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Coffee and dessert can wait. Let’s dance.”

Oh shit.

He’s still gripping my hand as he stands up and I hate myself for getting up, but I do.

I’m cursing this man as he drags me to the dance floor and then turns around with a skeevy smile on his leathery lips.

“I love Mariah Carey,” he says as he puts his hands on my hips. I’m standing as far from him as I can, barely touching his dandruff dusted shoulders with the tips of my fingers. “Don’t you?”

“She’s great,” I say, wishing that this song I supposedly love is over. Quickly.

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